Desperate Measures
by MaryRoyale
Summary: Cassiopeia Black wasn't the sort who was willing to just sit idly by while her House fell down around her. When Cassiopeia is given a Muggleborn witch orphaned by Death Eaters, she uses magical adoption to make the baby a true Black. Pureblood!Hermione. Slytherin!Hermione.
1. Circumstances of a Delicate Nature

_**A/N:**_ _I've played with the idea of a Pureblood!Hermione for years. I've done one or two where she is pureblood, but still *our* Hermione who went through everything in the books, and had all of those memories, beliefs and opinions. She was still a Gryffindor, and she was still part of the Golden Trio in some way or another._

 _This is not that Hermione. Or, well, it kind of is, but she's been adopted and raised as a pureblood by Cassiopeia Black. She's still the brightest witch of her age—she's just been raised by a powerful, intelligent, opinionated Slytherin._

 _I chose Cassiopeia Black for several reasons. She's in the cadet branch of the Black family. She's the younger sister of Pollux Black, Draco's great-grandfather, and the older sister of Dorea Black, wife of Charlus Potter and possible (?) grandmother of Harry Potter._

 _Also… I found out that there's an asteroid in the Cybele grouping of the main asteroid belt named 121 Hermione and I knew that she just *had* to be a Black._

 _I really have no excuse for this… it just happened._

 _ **Beta Worship:**_ _A HUGE, HUGE thank you to my Beta, Auntie L, who does her very best to save me from myself. At the same time, she encourages me and inspires me to do even more. Thank you so much for listening to me—even when I sound crazy._

/\/\/\/\/\

 _October 1979_

Condolence letters had been pouring in all week. Several times, there had been some near collisions between all of the owls. Cassiopeia sighed at the pile on her desk, but she sat down and began to open them.

 _So sorry for your loss_

 _Our thoughts are with your House_

 _Such a tragedy_

It _was_ a tragedy. The Ancient and Noble House of Black was practically defunct, and once those doddering old fools in charge finally died, it would be official. Her idiot cousin Arcturus happened to be the paterfamilias, and for whatever reason, he refused to reinstate his grandson. Cassiopeia growled under her breath. It was ridiculous to stand around and pretend that the future of their House wasn't crumbling in front of them.

"Mistress?"

Cassiopeia turned to her house-elf. "Yes, Ajax?"

"Miss Grizzy and Miss Auggie are waiting," Ajax reported dutifully.

"Of course they are," Cassiopeia muttered. She sighed again. "Very well, I'll be right out."

"Yes Mistress." Ajax bobbed and then cracked out of the room.

With a measure of relief, Cassiopeia put the sympathy notes to the side. She rose and frowned down at her current outfit. Her serviceable witches' robes in black wool serge were stained, and there was a spot where something had eaten holes into the skirt. She'd been in her potions lab all day tinkering with her latest experiment. She took her wand and muttered a few cleaning charms. She knew that the faint odour of sulfur and dragon's blood clung to her skin, but it wasn't as though Griselda Marchbanks and Augusta Longbottom expected her to sweep in dressed in satin, dripping with jewels — like Druella or Irma. Cassiopeia knew who she was, and she made no pretensions to be anything else.

The Floo was located in a hallway fireplace, and Cassiopeia grabbed a handful of Floo powder with the ease of long practice.

"Marchbanks Abbey," Cassiopeia called out in clipped tones. As soon as the fireplace flared green, she stepped in.

"Cassiopeia," Griselda greeted her.

"Griselda," Cassiopeia leaned forward and gave her a brief hug. She turned to Augusta and hugged her as well. "Augusta."

"You look like you could use a drink," Griselda announced after she looked her up and down.

"You have no idea," Cassiopeia huffed. She followed Griselda and Augusta into Griselda's small parlour. A bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey was already sitting out with three tumblers.

Griselda quickly poured out three measures and handed them out to everyone. She raised her glass.

"To Regulus and Orion," she offered.

Cassiopeia snorted and shook her head. "Idiots, the both of them. I can't believe that Walburga was stupid enough to encourage her only child to join that jumped-up wizard with delusions of grandeur."

"Well, how about we toast your House?" Augusta suggested.

"My House needs more than a toast, unless this is a wake," Cassiopeia snapped.

"Perhaps Arcturus might be persuaded…" Griselda faltered at the look on her friend's face. "Oh dear."

"Oh dear?" Cassiopeia's voice rose and she gave an hysterical laugh. "'Oh dear' is right, Griselda."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Augusta asked with a worried frown. The destruction of a House was a serious issue that affected everyone.

"I don't know… I guess I could adopt," Cassiopeia said with a tired sigh. She sat up at that and leaned forward toward Griselda and Augusta. "I've thought about it a lot lately."

"Adopting a child?" Griselda repeated. Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she stared at Cassiopeia for a moment. "But… where would you get one?"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Cassiopeia threw her hands up in the air. "So few of the old families are able to produce even a single child; they would never part with one. Even the half-bloods are treasured these days because they mean the continuation of the blood and the line."

"What about a Muggleborn child?" Augusta asked, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If you did one of the traditional adoptions… it would _be_ a Black."

"You mean a blood ritual." Cassiopeia sipped at her Firewhiskey. "I suppose that would work, but where on earth would I find a Muggleborn child?"

"Mum, I'm sorry interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that I'm leaving," Bertram Marchbanks poked his head into the small parlour. He nodded politely to Augusta and Cassiopeia. "Ladies, it's a pleasure, as always."

"Oh, Bertie," Griselda called to her son. "You be safe. Are you wearing the vest with the shield charms sewn in?"

"Yes, Mum," Bertram muttered as a dull flush rose up his neck. He was 60 years old, and a respected Senior Auror, but his mother still treated him as though he were in nappies.

"Well, run along dear. You don't want to be late." Griselda made shooing motions at her son.

"Yes, Mum," Bertram called as he turned and fled the parlour.

"That boy." Griselda shook his head. "He would be lost without me."

"Undoubtedly," Cassiopeia muttered and took another sip of her Firewhiskey.

/\/\/\/\/\

"What on earth is that?" Cassiopeia demanded with a frown.

"Erm, it's the baby... the one you wanted." Bertram Marchbanks shifted on his feet nervously in Cassiopeia's parlour.

While working in her potions lab, Cassiopeia didn't exactly keep strict hours, but she knew it was past midnight when two excited house-elves had dared to break the sanctity of her work room. They had been almost incoherent, but they had insisted that there was someone to see her. Never had she expected that it would be 'young' Bertram Marchbanks, or that he would have apparently stolen a baby for her.

Cassiopeia stared at him in shock for several minutes, and then finally looked down at the baby that he was cradling carefully. She moved closer and studied its face. The child was awake, and staring at her with unblinking eyes. Cassiopeia stared back. The child seemed alert and intelligent. She tilted her head to the side in thought, and the child seemed to focus on her face. _Definitely intelligent_ , she decided.

"Where did you get it?" She asked.

"There was a Death Eater attack," Bertram explained. He cleared his throat. "She, the baby, was frightened and she had a bout of accidental magic. Nobody else saw it but me. I figured... no one would miss her. The parents were both killed. If you don't take her, they'll just stick her in a Muggle orphanage."

" _Her_?" Cassiopeia's voice was harsh. She scowled at the baby. All of her plans and schemes had focused on making sure that her House continued. A girl child would not accomplish that. "I don't _want_ a witch. I _need_ a wizard who can become the paterfamilias for the House of Black."

"Well, she could demand a body heir in her marriage contract, couldn't she?" Bertram pointed out.

There was a precedent for the last female of a line either taking a half-blood wizard as a husband with the understanding that he would take her name, or, failing that, demanding an heir for her own House in a marriage contract. It hadn't been done in some time, but Cassiopeia was willing to wager that the old laws had never been disbanded. The Wizengamot was unlikely to throw out laws that were created to save a House from extinction.

Cassiopeia pursed her lips and then reluctantly nodded. "I suppose she could," she admitted.

"I have to go back or they'll know that I've done something," Bertram told her and then held out the baby.

Cassiopeia stared at the baby and then stared up at Bertram.

"Take her," he huffed and held the baby out again.

Carefully, as though she were handling a viper, Cassiopeia slid one hand under the baby's bum and the other under her head. She took the child in her arms and cradled her against her chest. The baby watched her with an intense focus. The small mouth seemed to pucker into a frown, and the baby scowled up at her. A smile tugged at Cassiopeia's lips. This strangely quiet baby with sharp intelligence in its eyes would be perfect. She didn't even hear Bertram Apparate out—she was too busy staring into the eyes of the future of her House.

"You'll need a celestial name like all of the Blacks," she murmured at the baby in her arms. She frowned slightly and sighed. "Andromeda was Cassiopeia's daughter, but that cow Druella made sure that we couldn't use that."

"Mistress?"

"Yes, Ajax?" Cassiopeia turned to her house-elf.

"The nursery is all ready for the Little Miss," Ajax informed her.

Cassiopeia smiled. Ajax was an excellent house-elf — he always anticipated her every need. He knew what she needed sometimes before she did.

"Thank you, Ajax." She frowned for a moment. "Make sure I'm not disturbed for the next hour. I'll need to complete that adoption so that the wards will accept her."

Ajax nodded eagerly and then cracked out of the room.

Magical adoption could take several different forms, but Cassiopeia needed the fullest form possible. She needed this baby to _be_ her daughter. This child had to be a Black. There were several spells, but the one she had decided on weeks ago—when her idiot cousin and his idiot son had died—was actually illegal. She snorted under her breath. The stupidity of the Ministry never failed to drive her spare; as though magic could be labeled Light or Dark. Magic was magic; it was what people did with it that counted, but this spell—adopting a Muggleborn witch and making her a full member of a pureblood family, an Ancient and Noble House—how could that be anything other than a good thing?

Blood was the answer. It always came down to blood, in the end. Anything involving blood was automatically labeled _Dark_. They never labeled sex or fertility magic as Dark, and it had the same primal base as most blood magic. Sure, some of it was unpleasant, and it might or might not kill quite a few people, but so could a well-placed _Wingardium Leviosa_ , and no one was running around shrieking about how _that_ was a Dark spell. It was all about intent. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the baby and Transfigured a small chair into a bassinet.

"You, my child, will be raised properly," Cassiopeia muttered as she arranged ingredients on a nearby table. "None of that romantic drivel about the seduction of the Dark Arts," she grumbled.

The baby found one tiny fist and sucked on it thoughtfully. One might wish that there were another way, but there was not—not to do what Cassiopeia needed to do. She picked up her wand and numbed the baby's arm before she pricked it and allowed one small drop of blood to fall into a waiting chalice. She flinched, waiting for the baby to scream its head off, but the baby didn't even fuss, she just continued to suck on one fist. Cassiopeia relaxed and sighed.

"Such a good little witch," Cassiopeia praised her.

With the same implement, she pricked her index finger and allowed a single drop of her own blood to fall into the chalice. She added wine and the prescribed herbs and then picked up her wand. Chanting under her breath in Latin, she waved her wand in a complex series of motions. The chalice began to glow with a golden light, and Cassiopeia smirked.

Carefully, she poured some of the liquid into a small phial and then moved toward the baby. She had taken her small fist out of her mouth and was watching Cassiopeia. The older witch picked up the baby again and then took up the phial and held it to the baby's lips. Almost as if the baby knew what was happening, she opened her mouth. Cassiopeia was careful to pour the potion in only a drop at a time, and eventually the baby had taken it all. She then took up the chalice and drained it dry.

"My blood is your blood," she murmured to the baby in her arms. "You are flesh of my flesh, child of my heart. Be of my family and of my House. I recognize you, and I name you Hermione Cybele, and I claim you for the House of Black."

A golden glow surrounded the two of them, sinking into their skin. The baby made a burbling, cooing noise and waved a fist at Cassiopeia.

"Hello daughter," Cassiopeia whispered softly.

/\/\/\/\

 _October 1980_

 _Potter Manor_

"Mum." Hermione tugged on her Mother's robes and scowled up at her.

"Don't pout, Hermione," Cassiopeia murmured absently and carefully pried small fingers off of her robes with one hand.

"Baby," Hermione announced and pointed accusingly at the baby in Cassiopeia's arms.

"This is your cousin Harry," Cassiopeia explained and she carefully tilted the baby so that Hermione could scowl at him. "Say hello to your cousin."

"No." Hermione's scowl deepened and she stomped her foot.

"Hermione, why don't you come see Uncle Charlus," Charlus cajoled, holding out his arms.

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously on her uncle, and she scowled one last time in her mother's direction before sullenly moving toward Charlus. He picked her up and hugged her.

"She's getting to be such a big girl," Charlus praised. He pulled back to look at her and sent a sad smile toward Cassiopeia. "She looks like Dorea."

"That's the adoption spell," Cassiopeia explained with a shrug. She paused and then shook her head. "Then again, for all I know she would have had those wild curls anyway."

"Thank you, for letting me see her." Charlus cuddled his niece and watched his sister-in-law expertly jiggle her great-nephew.

"Of course," Cassiopeia replied stiffly. "Family is family. Hermione needs to learn that as early as possible." She paused and looked down at the baby in her arms. _Dorea's grandson_. Dorea had never gotten to hold him, but he was Dorea's all the same.

"I agree." Charlus lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "But with times being what they are... thank you all the same."

"Your son is my sister's only child," Cassiopeia told him with a roll of her eyes. "And this little wizard is her first grandchild."

Charlus nodded at her, conceding the point. He watched Cassiopeia with Harry for a few minutes.

"Would it be all right with you if I took a picture of Hermione and Harry together?" Charlus asked with a hopeful look in his hazel eyes.

"If you make a copy for me as well," Cassiopeia replied.

With the bribe of biscuits, Hermione was convinced to sit as still as she could on a settee with her cousin Harry cradled carefully in her lap. A pillow was propped under her arm to make sure that she supported his head properly while Charlus fiddled with the camera. Once the flash went off, Cassiopeia hurried forward to grab Harry before Hermione could push him off her lap. Her daughter had little interest in a baby who couldn't even play with her.

"Biscuit." Hermione demanded.

Charlus laughed. "She reminds me of James. Come along, little one. Let's see if there are any biscuits in the kitchen."

/\/\/\/\

 _July 30, 1984_

 _Longbottom Manor_

"Good afternoon, Mrs Longbottom, Mr Longbottom. Happy Birthday, Neville." Hermione curtsied as her mother had taught her. Once the necessary greeting was out of the way, she held out the present that her hous-elf Beaker had helped her wrap.

The little boy that was mostly hiding behind Mr Longbottom shyly took the present from her and mumbled his thanks. His grandmother, Mrs Longbottom, huffed in irritation.

"Speak up, Neville," she commanded.

"Thank you," Neville whispered and then flushed.

"The boy is fine, Augusta," Mr Longbottom argued. He smiled at Hermione and Neville. "Why don't the two of you go play in the gardens? Cassiopeia, you're looking lovely as usual. How did that last batch of dittany work out?"

"The dittany was perfect as always, Roderick," Cassiopeia assured him. "You're lucky that Augusta snatched you up when she did, or I might have married you for the access to your gardens."

August snorted in amusement. "Until the first time he tried to put a fanged gerbil in _your_ handbag," she retorted.

"Until then," Cassiopeia agreed with a chuckle.

The adult conversation drifted into a soft murmur as Hermione followed Neville. The gardens at Longbottom Manor were second to none, and Cassiopeia ordered all of her potion supplies from the Longbottom family. Neville relaxed once they were surrounded by green, growing things. He wandered through the garden, pulling a weed here, or clipping off a leaf there.

"Asphodel," he murmured and pointed to a slender plant with pretty, lily-like white flowers.

"Royal Staff," she replied and was rewarded with a shy smile and a nod.

Neville pointed to a shrub covered in small yellow flowers. "Rue."

"Herb-of-grace."

"Starthistle."

"Yellow cockspur."

They moved around the garden like that—Neville pointing to a plant and naming it, and then waiting for Hermione to give the other names. It was a game to see who could stump whom. So far, Neville had always won. The first time that had happened, Hermione had been furious until Cassiopeia spoke to her later.

" _A smart witch is not the one who knows everything, it is the witch who knows what she does not know, and knows where to go to find the information," Cassiopeia told her daughter with a steely glint in her grey eyes. "Do you understand?"_

" _Yes Mother," Hermione had replied sullenly._

 _Cassiopeia had sighed at that and had cupped her daughter's cheek in one hand, tilting her daughter's chin up so that she could look into the girl's stormy eyes._

" _Everyone has their skill, their passion," Cassiopeia had said in a quiet voice. "Everyone excels in one area or another. No one can excel in all areas, Hermione."_

" _But, Mother-," Hermione had protested._

" _I admire your desire to excel," Cassiopeia continued, ignoring the interruption. "However, it is… useful… to allow others the spotlight."_

" _It's better to work from the shadows?" Hermione suggested with a thoughtful look in her eyes._

 _A slow, proud smile spread across Cassiopeia's face. "Exactly."_

"Hermione?" Neville prompted her and pointed to a plant with dark-blue, almost purple looking flowers. "Aconite."

Hermione bit her lip and stared at the plant. Finally, she shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted.

Neville grinned at her. "Monkshood." He paused and then added, "or Wolfsbane."

"Aconite, monkshood, wolfsbane," Hermione repeated under her breath. Neville nodded and gave her another smile.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _June 1985_

 _Malfoy Manor_

"A broom, my very own broom," Draco Malfoy crowed, waving the broom above his head.

Lucius and Narcissa watched him with indulgent smiles, and they shared a fond smile as Draco proceeded to try and show everyone his new broom.

"There are more presents to open, little Dragon," Lucius prompted his son.

"But, I want to test it out now," Draco protested.

"Later, Draco," Narcissa murmured.

The rest of the presents were opened to all the appropriate 'oohs' and 'ahs.' The only hitch was when Draco opened a beginner's 'My First Potion Set' only to open the exact same thing not a minute later. Both Severus Snape, longtime friend of Lucius Malfoy and Potions Professor at Hogwarts, and Cassiopeia Black, renowned Potions Mistress, had gifted the young wizard with the same thing.

"It's wonderful to know that two such respected Potioneers are invested in our son's future," Lucius announced with a polite smile, and everyone chuckled and nodded in agreement. He bowed slightly to Cassiopeia and nodded to his friend. "Just wait twelve years when Draco needs an internship."

After the presents the party-goers were dispersed to the gardens for refreshments. Cassiopeia herded her daughter toward the other children.

"Why don't you go visit with Draco?" Cassiopeia suggested.

Hermione grimaced. "Must I, Mother?"

"What's wrong with your cousin Draco?" Cassiopeia asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"He's going to spend the entire time telling me that I'm not allowed to touch any of his things," Hermione complained with a heavy sigh.

"A healthy respect for other people's property is a virtue to be lauded," Cassiopeia reminded her.

Hermione sighed again and rolled her eyes at her mother. "I don't even want to touch his old broom," she muttered.

"Hermione," Cassiopeia warned and a steely glint entered her eyes.

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "I'll go talk to Draco about all his presents that I'm not allowed to touch."

Cassiopeia snorted. "It gets better, darling. Eventually, he'll grow up."

"I hope so." Hermione scowled in Draco's direction. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Cassiopeia used a sudden fit of coughing to cover the paroxysm of laughter that came over her. Hermione sighed once more before she squared her shoulders and marched off toward Draco.

"She's definitely a Black," Narcissa murmured as she watched her great-aunt's daughter striding across the lawn with her head held high.

Cassiopeia nodded. "She is that." Then she paused and bit her lip as she watched her daughter. "I've wondered sometimes what she might have been like if I hadn't adopted her."

Narcissa shuddered. "She would have been abandoned with no family and no one to look out for her," she pointed out. "She's far better off among her own kind with a family who loves her."

"I suppose so," Cassiopeia agreed reluctantly.

"Believe me, Aunt Cassiopeia, you did the right thing." Narcissa took her great-aunt's hand and looked into the other woman's eyes. "That little girl is a Black, and she belongs with us."

"I know she does." Cassiopeia watched her daughter talk to Draco and his friends. "I know she does."

/\/\/\/\

 _August 1985_

 _Blackwell Manor_

"But you said that you were going to let me help you brew today," Hermione protested.

Cassiopeia sighed. "I know, poppet, but this is important."

"But you _hated_ cousin Walburga. You told Mrs Marchbanks and Mrs Longbottom that she was an insane old bat and it would have been better off for our House if she'd been drowned as a child," Hermione reminded her mother.

Cassiopeia closed her eyes and counted to ten. Most days, she was as proud as she could be of her clever, beautiful, frighteningly intelligent daughter. Hermione was an absolute joy with her never-ending curiosity and her love of knowledge. Other days, however, her daughter's prodigious memory and stubbornness were a trial.

"Hermione," Cassiopeia managed to get out through gritted teeth. "My great-niece has died. It is my duty, as a member of the House of Black, to go to her funeral. As my daughter, it is your duty to come and pay your respects to your cousin."

"Yes Mother," Hermione muttered. She scowled at her shoes.

"We can always brew tomorrow," Cassiopeia reminded her daughter.

Hermione spontaneously hugged her mother tightly around her legs and then hurried off to her room to get ready.

"Beaker!" Hermione called.

"Little Miss called Beaker?" The house-elf cracked into Hermione's room.

"Mother says we have to go to cousin Walburga's funeral." Hermione made a face that expressed her opinion about that.

"Beaker has Little Miss's dress all laid out." Beaker hustled her small charge over to the bed.

It was a commonly accepted fact in Blackwell Manor that Hermione's hair was completely hopeless. It was a bushy mass of wild curls that seemed to crackle with power and refused to behave. Beaker braided her charge's hair into two thick, tight braids. It was the only way to make sure that Hermione's hair was semi-manageable.

Blackwell Manor had been in the Black family for centuries. Most of Hermione's clothes had been things that the house-elves had found in the attic packed in cedar chests filled with lavender and they had transfigured them to fit her. Even the current witch's robes that Beaker had laid out had belonged to Cassiopeia or her younger sister Dorea as a child. Austere black silk trimmed with black ribbon and black lace made Hermione's skin look even paler than normal.

"There," Beaker murmured, tugging on the robes to get them to lay straight. "Little Miss looks like a proper Black."

"Thank you, Beaker." Hermione leaned forward and hugged her house-elf.

"Of course," Beaker sniffed imperiously. "Little Miss is Beaker's responsibility."

The funeral was filled with people that Hermione knew; it was filled with members of the Black family and various cousins. She had never been in a gathering that was this large, though, and she stuck close to her mother's side. Cassiopeia led her to an area that had been cordoned off for a group of young witches and wizards. There was a table with food that was low enough for little hands to reach it, and a couple of older witches were sitting nearby watching over all of them.

"Cassiopeia," one of them called and rose to meet them.

"Aunt Alvina." Cassiopeia moved forward to kiss her aunt on both cheeks. "Hermione, this is Alvina Bulstrode. She is married to my mother's brother."

"Uncle Oswin," Hermione supplied.

Cassiopeia smiled at her daughter. "That's right, dear." It took time to memorize the tortuous branches of the family tree, but Hermione was trying.

"There are sandwiches and tea," Aunt Alvina pointed out helpfully. "My great-granddaughter is here somewhere... Millie? Millicent, where are you, child?"

A dark-haired girl about Hermione's age walked over to them and looked up at Aunt Alvina expectantly.

"Yes, Grandmama?" Millie asked.

"This is Hermione Black. She is the granddaughter of Violetta Bulstrode, and is your cousin. I want you to help her get some sandwiches and tea and then introduce her to some of the other children," Alvina instructed. She turned to smile at Hermione. "Hermione, this is Millicent Bulstrode."

"Yes Grandmama." Millie bobbed a curtsy and took Hermione's hand, dragging her off toward the sandwiches.

"Are you related to Walburga Black, too?" Hermione asked, after filling a plate with cucumber and chicken salad sandwiches.

Millie shook her head. "No, but Grandmama said that we have to come anyway to be polite."

"Oh." Hermione took a bite of a cucumber sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

A young girl of about the same age as Millicent and Hermione marched over to them. She had straight, black hair that had been brushed until it shone in a neat bob. A huge navy blue bow had been affixed to the side of her head, and her nose was turned up like Delores, Mrs Marchbanks' pug.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson," the girl announced and tilted her nose in the air. "Who are you?"

Next to Hermione, Millicent rolled her eyes and sighed. "Pan-sy," she groaned drawing the other girl's name out. "You're supposed to let me introduce you."

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. "So do it, then."

Millicent sighed again and then stood up. "Hermione, this is my friend, Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, this is my cousin, Hermione Black."

Hermione bobbed a curtsy. "Pleased to meet you," she murmured.

Pansy sniffed as though she doubted this to be so. "Just remember, Millie was _my_ friend first."

Hermione blinked. "I'll remember." She turned to Millie. "Should I go meet the others?"

"Eat your sandwiches," Millicent told her. "Grandmama always says that you should let others come to you."

Pansy nodded. "It places you in a position of power," she explained.

Hermione nibbled on a sandwich and considered that. She supposed that it was true. Mother spent her days in her Potions lab, and whenever anyone wanted to come and see Mother, they had to be willing to accept how much or how little attention Mother was willing to give. There were some days when Mother refused to see anyone at all. Hermione was the only exception to that rule. No matter what Mother was working on, she always made time to visit with Hermione, and she always took meal breaks with her.

"Mother does that," she admitted finally.

Pansy and Millicent nodded.

"Do you know everyone here?" Hermione asked as she watched the children mingling around her.

"Not yet," Millicent replied with a shrug. "But I will after the fall."

"What happens in the fall?" Hermione looked from Pansy to Millicent.

"Dancing lessons begin," Pansy explained. "Everyone goes. I'm sure you'll be there, too."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _September 1985_

 _Lucci School of Dance_

Teaching a roomful of spoiled rich wizards and witches how to dance was not the most pleasant way to make money, but Andrea Lucci couldn't afford to be choosy. As a former dancer with the wizarding ballet, he had a certain cachet that he was able to trade with, and at least it put food on the table. He watched as the small group milled about uncertainly. His sharp eyes moved over them, trying to determine who would be his problem students for the next year.

"Squib," a small blond boy sneered at a pudgy little boy with dark hair.

The little boy flushed a dull red and his hands fisted at his sides. A little witch with two thick, black braids stepped up next to the dark haired boy and lifted her chin arrogantly.

"Just because Neville isn't flashy with his magic doesn't mean he's a Squib, Draco," the little witch countered. Her lip curled and she looked the blond up and down.

"What does it matter to you," Draco protested. "He's going to be a Gryffindor just like all of the other Longbottoms."

The little witch shook her head at him. " _De gustibus et coloribus non est disputandum_ ," she snapped.

Andrea hid a smile. Twenty years in wizarding Britain had acquainted him with Hogwarts' peculiar House system, and the deep divisions between Houses. Many families were aligned with specific Houses, especially the older families. The little witch, from what Andrea Lucci understood, was most correct. It would do no good to argue about House colors or family alignments—they were what they were.

"Come on, boys and girls," Lucci called out. "Let us pair up."

The little dark-haired wizard, Neville, turned to the little witch who took his hand in hers. Lucci clapped his hands together and began to walk them through the basic steps.

/\/\/\/\


	2. A Grafted Chimera

_**A/N:**_ _I'm walking a fine line here. I don't like it when Hermione's looks are completely changed in a story—and all the descriptions focus on how pretty she is *now*... as though she were some sort of unspeakable troll before. Therefore in this story her hair is black, and similar to Bellatrix's and Andromeda's hair (and even Sirius' and Regulus' hair, which is usually described in the books as curly) as described in the books, but her eyes, as I mention in this chapter, are brown and have stayed the same. This isn't to infer that the adoption didn't work properly, or that she isn't a true Black. I just wanted to keep Hermione as Hermione-like as possible._

 _Hermione's hair... I know all about Hermione's hair because I deal with it on a daily basis. No one understands what it's like to deal with naturally curly hair unless you have it. Everyone thinks it looks so pretty, but the reality is so much more than that. Humidity can make it frizz, the product you use can make it frizz. I swear to Merlin that waking up with somewhere important to be that day can make it frizz. Whether or not you can convince a stubborn 10 year-old to let you pick it out can make the difference between pretty, soft curls that fall into perfect corkscrews, and a bushy menace. Right now, my daughter is at the "I don't have time for this shit" phase of hair care, and she usually pulls it back into a thick ponytail and pulls a baseball cap over her head. (Needless to say that when that baseball cap comes off, her hair is pretty frizzy.)_

 _I truly think that Hermione's original hair (pre-adoption) wasn't all that different from "Black family hair". How you take care of it is *everything* with naturally curly hair._

 ** _Arx Love:_** _It's coming. I'm working on it. It's just a little tricky at the moment._

 _ **Beta Love:**_ _The beta for this chapter was Auntie_L. I love her so hard. :D_

 _ **Falcon Love:**_ _For letting me bounce ideas off of them, which may or may not degenerate into really, really strange conversations about ancient penis sculptures and Home and Garden TV. Sometimes, I need these conversations to keep me sane._

 _ **Word of the Day:**_ _scruple—n. a unit of weight equal to 20 grains, used by apothecaries._

/\/\/\/\/\

 _March 1988_

 _Longbottom Estate_

"Uncle Roderick, when do you think that we can begin dueling like Mother and Aunt Augusta?" Hermione asked curiously.

Roderick Longbottom smiled down at the serious-looking little girl in front of him. Cassiopeia Black and Augusta Bones had been friends since their school years. She had been Augusta's bridesmaid at their bonding ceremony. It had been natural for Cassiopeia to bring her daughter to the Longbottom Estate to play with their grandson Neville, and even more natural for Hermione to call them 'Uncle' and 'Aunt.' Neville had grown up calling Cassiopeia his aunt.

It comforted Roderick that Neville had an extended group of people that he could call family; it eased his guilt and grief that Frank and Alice couldn't be here. Augusta tried to make Frank and Alice the center of Neville's life—everything revolved around their memory. Roderick couldn't help but worry about whether or not his grandson would be smothered under the weight of his parents' memory. Would he ever be good enough, or smart enough, or _anything_ enough to live up to people who were enshrined as heroes?

"Why do you need to duel, Hermione?" He asked.

Hermione scowled up at him. "Draco keeps calling Neville a Squib in dancing class, Uncle Roderick, but he's not! Neville can do magic, and he's going to get his Hogwarts letter just the same as the rest of us," she said fiercely, her hands fisted at her sides.

"So what you really want is to teach your cousin a lesson?" Roderick drawled with a smirk.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I want to teach Draco a lesson."

"You're too young for dueling just yet," Roderick told her. "Still, I don't see why we can't practice form. I know that your Aunt and your Mother are dueling champions, but I was no slouch myself." He turned toward the gardens and spotted Neville on his knees, weeding. "Neville, come here!"

"What is it, Granddad?" Neville asked as he dusted his hands off on his knees.

"Our Hermione wants to learn how to duel," Roderick said with a grin.

Neville's eyes widened and he looked from his grandfather to Hermione. "But... we don't even have wands yet."

"That's fine," Roderick said with a wave of his hand, dismissing Neville's worry. "All we're going to practice today is your form. You don't really need a wand for that. Just look around for a stick."

Both children raced off to find a stick that each might use to 'duel'. Hermione found a slender stick that looked perfect, and Neville found a larger one.

"These will do," she decided. "Come on, Nev, let's go."

"What's the point, Hermione?" Neville flushed and looked at his feet. "You know that I haven't really shown any magic. I know that Gran's talked to your Mum about it."

"You have magic," Hermione argued fiercely. "I know you do, Neville. You're going to get your letter to Hogwarts and you're going to become a dueling champion like Aunt Augusta and you're going to _show_ Draco a thing or two."

Neville looked at the determination in Hermione's eyes. When Hermione spoke that way, he could almost believe her.

"If you say so, Hermione," he told her doubtfully.

Hermione tossed her head and tilted her chin arrogantly. "I do say so," she retorted.

Neville gave her one of his shy half-smiles. "You usually do get your way," he admitted as they walked back to Roderick.

"I do," Hermione agreed with a smirk.

For the next hour, Roderick showed the two children how to stand, how to hold their 'wands', and how to bow to one another. He had them practice the courtesies over and over until they were almost instinctual.

"Now remember, Neville, when you bow, don't look at the ground. You keep an eye on our Hermione the entire time. You never know what she might do," Roderick called to Neville.

Neville adjusted his stance. "Like this Granddad? Granddad?" Neville looked away from Hermione toward his grandfather.

"Neville! Help me," Hermione shrieked and she ran toward where Roderick lay on the grass.

Both children ran over to Roderick and carefully rolled him over.

"Granddad?" Neville whispered. He turned to Hermione, who had paled dramatically. "Go get Gran and your Mum," he ordered.

Hermione nodded silently and then turned on her heel and ran toward the manor.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _August 1989_

 _Malfoy Manor_

"Now, Hermione, you will apologize to Draco," Cassiopeia prompted with a martial glint in her eye.

"No!"

"Hermione Cybele Black," Cassiopeia snapped in a cold voice. "You will apologize to your cousin and you will do it _now_."

"But Mother, he–," Hermione began angrily, but her Mother held up a hand and she fell silent.

"I don't care what he did," Cassiopeia said, her voice growing even colder. "There is absolutely no excuse for stealing Narcissa's wand and using a sticking charm to stick your cousin to the ceiling. And in the attic of all places! It's a lucky thing that Narcissa sent a house-elf after the boy or they might not have found him for days."

Hermione scowled at her mother. Cassiopeia sighed and pulled her stiff, angry daughter in for a hug.

"Sweetheart, I know that Draco can be...," Cassiopeia trailed off and looked at her daughter helplessly.

"Impossible? Rude? Obnoxious?" Hermione suggested.

"Difficult," Cassiopeia said firmly. "But you must remember that family is family. No matter how much Draco drives you crazy, he is your family."

"Why can't Neville be family?" Hermione muttered rebelliously. "I'd much rather have him for a cousin."

"Neville is like family," Cassiopeia agreed. She sighed. "You know, when I was a child I used to fight with my siblings just like you fight with Draco. He drives you crazy, and you want to hex him until he's dizzy, but if anyone else ever tried to hurt Draco you would probably gut them."

"I doubt it," Hermione muttered.

Cassiopeia snorted. "Just wait and see," she told her daughter. Cassiopeia patted Hermione. "Now go apologize."

"Fine." Hermione stalked sullenly toward the door.

"Wait," Cassiopeia called to her daughter.

"Yes Mother?" Hermione paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Smile," Cassiopeia ordered. "Even if it hurts, even if it's killing you, smile. Never let anyone know what you're really thinking. That's giving information away for free."

Hermione took a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and pasted a bright, happy smile on her face.

"Better?" She asked in a sweet, innocent-sounding voice.

Cassiopeia smirked at her daughter. "Better."

Head held high, Hermione stalked down the hall until she got to Narcissa's parlour. She opened the door and then turned to face an absolutely furious Lucius Malfoy and an equally furious-looking Draco. Narcissa sat next to them looking cool and composed—not giving any of her emotions away. Hermione eyed her thoughtfully for just a moment before gliding forward and curtseying deeply.

"I am very sorry, Cousin Draco," she told her shoes solemnly.

"As well you should be," Lucius growled. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to him? Do you? He could have _died_ up there!"

"Oh no, Cousin Lucius," Hermione contradicted him, and shook her head. "I'm not strong enough yet to do really powerful sticking charms. It probably would have only lasted for a couple of hours."

Lucius breathed loudly in and out through his nostrils in an effort to calm himself. "Why on earth would you do such a thing?" He demanded.

"He called me a Mudblood and said that I wasn't really a Black," Hermione announced calmly.

"He did _what_?"

Everyone turned to the doorway where Cassiopeia stood, glaring at her great-great nephew. She marched over to him and leaned down so that she could look him in the eye.

"And why would you say such a thing, Draco?" Cassiopeia asked in a cold, quiet voice that dripped with menace.

"I heard Mr Crabbe talking to Father about it," Draco whispered, staring at his shoes all the while.

Narcissa and Cassiopeia both turned their head and narrowed their eyes at Lucius Malfoy, who had paled and held his hands up in front of himself defensively.

"Crabbe, not me," he protested. "I explained the true situation to him, but I shooed Draco and Vincent out of the room first. Narcissa doesn't want Draco around that kind of language."

"I want you to listen very carefully to me, Draco," Cassiopeia snapped. "This may be important for you later. You are the very last of your House. You may need this spell one day."

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia," Draco whispered.

"Now, there are several matters we need to clear up, especially since you'll both be going to Hogwarts in a few years, and if Hermione isn't Sorted into Slytherin I'll eat Augusta's god-awful vulture hat," the older witch continued. "Yes, Hermione was born a Muggleborn, but I performed a blood ritual called _Sanguinem Familia_. Magically, biologically, in every possible way that can count she is _my_ daughter. Hermione is a pureblood, and she is a Black."

"But Mr Crabbe said-," Draco protested.

"Jasper Crabbe is lucky that he's able to dress himself," Cassiopeia retorted. "Anyone with half a brain knows what _Sanguinem Familia_ does."

"But... she's got brown eyes," Draco protested. "All the Blacks have grey eyes. You do, and Mother does, and even Grandpa Pollux does."

"Not all of them," Cassiopeia corrected him with a shake of her head. "Your Aunt Bellatrix has dark eyes, and your cousin Regulus had dark eyes. Hermione's eyes are not quite as dark as Bellatrix's are, but they don't mean she isn't a Black."

"And this hair," Narcissa added with a fond smile for her young cousin. She reached out and gently tugged a braid. "Bella and Dromeda used to have the worst time with their hair. Mother kept them in braids until she found a shampoo that helped make it more manageable."

"I like it in braids," Hermione muttered defensively. "It's out of my way when I help Mother in her lab."

"But... how can she a Muggleborn and a pureblood," Draco protested. "That doesn't make any sense. She can't be both—it's impossible."

"Do Chimera exist?" Cassiopeia asked him with a pointed look.

"Of course they do," he burst out. Realization dawned in his eyes and he flushed. "So Hermione's a Chimera?"

"In a way, yes," Cassiopeia explained. "She may have been born to Muggle parents, but she is my daughter. Any curse that is meant to harm a Muggleborn won't affect her. Any of the cursed items that are meant to harm anyone who isn't of Black blood won't harm her."

"I think I understand," Draco replied slowly. He turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry," he said in the most humble voice she had ever heard him use.

"I think you've been punished for your ignorance," Cassiopeia drawled and smirked at the Malfoys. "If Hermione had been a Muggleborn, she probably would have just punched you in the nose. But instead, you were dealing with a furious little pureblood who managed to not only steal a wand, but cast a successful hex. The only failure on her part was getting caught." Cassiopeia chuckled to herself. "You're lucky she hasn't gone to Hogwarts yet, and had spent the day helping Narcissa just hang pictures. Otherwise, it might be a much worse situation."

The adults spoke together for a few more minutes before they all made polite goodbyes to one another, and then Cassiopeia took her daughter by the arm and marched her toward the Floo.

"I hope you've learned a lesson," Cassiopeia muttered under her breath.

"Don't get caught?" Hermione offered with an innocent smile.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at her daughter. "There is that," she admitted. "No, I meant about your status. You'll be going to Hogwarts, and I don't want to deal with this on a daily basis. Don't let ignorant people get to you. You are a pureblood, Hermione. It doesn't matter what anyone says. The truth is that you are my daughter."

"Yes Mother." Hermione paused in front of the Floo and looked up at Cassiopeia. "I'm glad, you know," she confessed. "That you chose me. I can't imagine anybody else ever being my mother."

Cassiopeia smiled fondly at her daughter. "I think we chose each other. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were mine."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _October 31, 1989_

 _Blackwell Manor_

Samhain was always a solemn affair at Blackwell Manor. Cassiopeia was a firm believer in tradition, and she always spent the day honouring those who had died. Their pictures were set out on a table, and the house-elves set small offering trays in front of them. In the morning, Cassiopeia would light incense and spend a half an hour in quiet contemplation. Usually in the afternoon, she would take Hermione to the Black crypt in Godric's Hollow. Cassiopeia would also stop by the Potter crypt so that she could leave flowers for her sister and brother-in-law.

"We have to do Cousin James and Cousin Lily as well," Hermione reminded her mother. "For Harry's sake."

"He should be here, doing it himself," Cassiopeia muttered darkly. "But that idiot Dumbledore tried to tell me that Sirius's position as godfather was invalidated by his betrayal." She snorted indignantly. "As if I weren't the boy's great aunt anyway. _I_ could certainly take better care of him than whomever Dumbledore dug up. They won't be teaching him any of the things that Dorea would have done."

"Where is Cousin Harry?" Hermione asked as she did every year.

"I don't know," Cassiopeia confessed. She sighed and put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "No one knows. He's not in the wizarding world, I know that much."

Hermione thought about how lonely her cousin must be—to be kept separate from the wizarding world and all of his family. She shuddered and moved closer to her mother.

"Do you think that Cousin Sirius really betrayed Cousin James?" Hermione asked in a small voice. Cassiopeia rarely spoke of her great-nephew, and Hermione wasn't willing to turn down the opportunity for information.

"It doesn't feel right," Cassiopeia admitted quietly. "For all that he was a Gryffindor, Sirius was a Black. Family is family. I don't understand how he could turn his back on his family like that. And for the so-called Dark Lord?" She snorted derisively. "Sirius was never a Death Eater."

"Isn't there something we can do?" Hermione asked.

Cassiopeia snorted again. "I've tried. It's like yelling into a windstorm for all the good it does me. The Ministry says that all the evidence points to Sirius. He supposedly confessed in front of Aurors. It would help if Arcturus would reinstate Sirius, but the old fool refuses to do so. I think he's worried about the shame of having family in Azkaban; as if Bellatrix doesn't do that already."

"She's a Lestrange though," Hermione pointed out.

Cassiopeia shrugged. "I suppose, but only by marriage. It doesn't make me feel any better that her last name isn't Black. Everyone knows who she is... it's a stain on our family."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _May 1990_

 _Black Keep_

"I can't believe he's gone," Irma Black murmured with a lost expression on her face.

Draco and Hermione milled about uncertainly, watching their parents try to comfort Irma and one another. Finally, Draco took Hermione by the hand and dragged her out of the room. Once they were out of the room, Hermione turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"I couldn't stand being in there anymore," Draco confessed. "Everyone's just so sad. Mother keeps _crying_ ," he muttered in a horrified voice.

"I'm sad, too," Hermione admitted. "I liked Uncle Pollux. He always had Ice Mice in his pockets."

"You're not crying all over the place," Draco pointed out.

"I'm trying to be stoic," Hermione retorted. "Mother is very upset. Pollux was her older brother, you know. She is the last of all of her siblings."

Both Draco and Hermione were only children, and both of them fell silent at that. Hermione tried to imagine what it would be like to have brothers and sisters, and then have all of them taken from you. A wave of sadness swept over her.

"I suppose it would be like having you die," Draco said thoughtfully. He frowned at her. "I guess you're as close as I'm ever going to get to having a sister."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks Draco."

"You know what I mean," he protested.

Hermione sighed. She knew exactly what he meant. Both Neville and Draco were the closest things she had to actual brothers. If she ever lost Neville... she wasn't sure what she would do. She supposed that if Draco were to die she would probably miss him.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Do you want to fly for a bit?" Draco asked.

Hermione made a face. "I left my broom at home."

Draco's face fell. "I did, too, actually. What do you want to do then?" Draco sighed and slumped into a nearby chair.

"We could go to the kitchens," Hermione suggested.

Draco grinned at her. "Excellent choice," he told her.

"I know," Hermione drawled with a smirk.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _August 1990_

 _Diagon Alley_

"Hold on, girls, we need to pop into the apothecary for just a moment." Cassiopeia turned and looked over her shoulder at the three girls trailing behind her.

Introducing Hermione to her cousin Millicent had been an excellent idea. Cassiopeia worried that her daughter was far too much like her; Hermione would much rather spend all day in the lab, or with her nose in a book, more than anything else. While Cassiopeia loved her daughter's quick mind, she was willing to admit that Hermione needed more than that.

"What's your mother working on this time?" Millicent asked curiously as she poked at an open bin of snake teeth.

"Nothing specific," Hermione murmured as she eyed a bin of powdered moonstone and tried to calculate whether or not she had enough allowance left to get a scruple's worth _and_ still get a book at Flourish and Blott's.

"So she's just stocking up?" Millicent put a handful of snake teeth into a small paper bag.

"I think so." Hermione shrugged and looked over at Millicent. "Why?"

"Pansy wants to go to Madam Malkin's and when your mother has a specific experiment she starts questioning every single ingredient, where it came from, how it was harvested, you know how she gets," Millicent explained.

Hermione frowned slightly. "Those are perfectly valid questions. All of that can affect the outcome of a potion and its efficacy."

"That might be true, but who wants to spend four hours in an apothecary," Pansy added as she walked up to them.

"Yes, yes, I understand that it's powdered Asphodel. Anyone can tell that. What I'm asking is whether or not it was frozen before it was powdered or dried before it was powdered," Cassiopeia's voice drifted to them from the front of the store.

Both Millicent and Pansy turned to Hermione and just looked at her. Hermione sighed.

"Fine, I'll see if she'll let us walk to Madam Malkin's on our own," Hermione muttered, walking over to her mother.

The apothecary was in the middle of trying to explain just what region of Transylvania this particular batch of powdered Asphodel had come from when Hermione reached them. She stood to the side of her mother, clasped her hands in front of her, and patiently waited. Cassiopeia turned to her and raised her eyebrows.

"Mother, may Millicent, Pansy, and I go to Madam Malkin's? There's a particular set of robes that Pansy wants, and she's afraid someone else will buy them first," Hermione asked.

Cassiopeia nodded and waved a hand at her. "Go to Madam Malkin's with the other girls. I'll be there in just a moment."

Hermione nodded and then turned back to her friends. She walked sedately back to the two of them, and murmured, "we can go."

Pansy gave a partially muffled squeal that earned them dirty looks from the other patrons. With several muttered apologizes and a few curtsies they hurried from the apothecary and toward Madam Malkin's.

The wizarding dress shop was one of the few stores on Diagon Alley that Hermione had never been in, which was partly because all of her clothes had come from the attics in Blackwell Manor and were still perfectly serviceable, and partly because Cassiopeia had strong opinions about the current fashion trends for young witches.

Leisurely, the girls moved through the store, looking at different dresses. It was semi-crowded with shoppers looking to purchase school robes for Hogwarts. The three young witches weaved in and out of the crowd as politely as they could with Pansy keeping up a steady stream of chatter.

"Honestly, Hermione, I don't know how you stand it," Pansy complained. "I would just die if I had to wear some of the monstrosities your house-elf puts you in."

Hermione looked down at her black lawn summer robes trimmed in black eyelet and black ribbon.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" Hermione demanded.

"That one's actually not too bad," Pansy admitted. "But a couple of them are positively ancient. And must you wear black all the time? It's positively dreary."

"Mother says that black is more practical," Hermione defended herself sullenly. "If I wore some of your outfits into her potions lab they'd be ruined in five minutes."

"Well that's just it," Pansy said and put her hands on her hips. "You don't have to be in the lab every single day. I mean, you aren't in the lab now, are you?"

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. "No," she admitted.

"Then for goodness' sake, wear some colour," Pansy huffed. She turned away and marched down the aisle toward the robes she'd been eyeing for months.

Millicent shot her a look of apology and hurried down the aisle after her friend. Hermione sighed and looked down at her dress; she had picked this one out herself. With the shorter sleeves and the full skirts, she had felt almost dainty.

"I like it," a quiet voice commented.

Hermione spun around to see a boy about her age with dark blond hair and clear green eyes. She blinked at him. He was a serious-looking boy, but handsome all the same. Hermione recognized him from dance class. Theodore Nott was one of the wizards who left Neville alone. He was friends with Blaise Zabini.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked, uncertain if he had been speaking to her or muttering to himself.

"Your robes," he said, waving a hand at her outfit. "I think they suit you."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, and her cheeks turned pink again.

"Nott," the boy said and held out his hand. "Theodore Nott."

"I know, from dance class," she replied, and placed her hand in his. "Hermione Black," she added.

He gave her a slight smile. "I know."

He bowed, just like they were taught in dance class, and kissed the back of her hand. Having someone do it outside of dance class was completely different. In class, all of the boys had put-upon, disgusted looks on their faces, and they did it as quickly as they could. Nott held her hand gently, his skin warm against hers. Hermione's cheeks turned pink, and she pulled her hand from his.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Black," he said politely.

Hermione curtseyed as she had been taught. "And you, as well," she murmured.

"Teddy darling? Madam Malkin is ready for you," An older woman called to him.

Nott sighed. "I beg your pardon, Miss Black. Coming, Mother," he called back.

She nodded, and once he turned toward his mother, she turned and fled in the same direction as Pansy and Millicent. The two girls were arguing over whether or not a particular shade of blue was sapphire or royal blue. Hermione rolled her eyes and tuned them out.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _December 1990_

 _Malfoy Manor_

"Where is Hermione?" Narcissa asked in surprise.

Cassiopeia gave her great-niece a tight-lipped smile. "Looking for Augusta and Neville."

Ever since Roderick had died, Augusta had secluded and isolated both herself and Neville. It had taken all the force of Hermione's formidable personality to bully her way into Longbottom Manor, and to convince Augusta to allow Neville to attend functions; slowly but surely, Augusta was coming back to herself, but Hermione wasn't willing to take chances, especially when it came to Neville.

The Winter Gala was held at Malfoy Manor every year, ostensibly as a fundraiser for St. Mungo's. It was one of the premier events of the social season, and tickets were highly coveted. Hermione had shamelessly begged Narcissa to invite the Longbottoms two years ago, and they had been included every year since.

"Do you think that they might make a good match?" Narcissa asked in a too-casual voice.

"No." Cassiopeia took a sip of her champagne and looked over the crowd gathered for the evening.

Narcissa shot her an irritated glance, and Cassiopeia smirked.

"Hermione is too much like me," she elaborated. "She needs a strong wizard—someone who will challenge her intellectually, magically, and romantically. Neville is a good boy, and I'm sure he'll grow into a good man, but Hermione doesn't need _good_."

"She needs power," Narcissa murmured, undertanding.

Cassiopeia inclined her head to Narcissa. "Exactly."

"What if she doesn't find the right wizard?" Narcissa worried aloud.

"We will find the right wizard," Cassiopeia said firmly.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Hermione, what are you doing out here?" Draco asked with a frown. "The party is in the ballroom."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her cousin. "I know that Draco. I'm waiting for Aunt Augusta and Neville."

Draco's frown grew deeper. "Why does he have to come anyway? You know he's not going to be Slytherin."

Hermione counted to ten in her head before she turned to face her cousin. "It is useful to cultivate contacts in other Houses, Draco. Yes, even in Gryffindor."

"I'm your cousin," Draco muttered almost to himself.

"Yes, you are. What's your point, Draco?" Hermione asked.

"You always hang out with Neville, and talk to Neville, and ask Mother to invite Neville to any of our functions," Draco complained. "But you're _my_ cousin. You should be hanging out with me, and talking to me, and getting people to invite me places."

Hermione blinked at her cousin. "Draco... are you jealous of Neville?"

"No," Draco growled.

"Draco...," Hermione sighed and moved closer to her cousin. She slipped her hand in his. "You _are_ my cousin. We're family. I don't need to do any of those things because nothing will ever change that. Besides, you have a mother and a father that adore you and spoil you rotten. Neville has a grandmother who is still grieving the deaths of her husband, and still dealing with what happened to her son, and her daughter-in-law."

"I suppose that's true," Draco conceded, "but I still don't like it."

Hermione snorted. "Too bad."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _February 1991_

 _Ancestral Black Family Estate_

"How's my favourite witch?" Arcturus asked with a chuckle.

"Very well, thank you, Uncle Arcturus," Hermione replied with a curtsey.

"Do you remember what we spoke about last time?" He asked.

Hermione nodded. "The family crest and motto."

"And?" Arcturus raised a brow at her.

"Sable, a chevron between two mullets in chief and a sword in base, argent," Hermione recited obediently. She frowned. "Wisdom… and protection, the duty to protect, granted to us by the gods."

"The honour to protect," Arcturus corrected her gently. He pointed to the crest and motto on the wall. "And how does that tie in to our motto?"

" _Toujours Pur_ ," she murmured and her frown grew deeper. This part of the lesson she had been expected to work out on her own. "Magic must be kept pure… it must be kept in balance… and it is our honour to protect our magic—to use our wisdom to keep it in balance."

A genuine smile broke out on Arcturus' face. "Very good, Hermione."

"How do we keep the balance, Uncle Arcturus?" She asked curiously.

"That is something that must be decided by each witch and wizard," Arcturus told her in a solemn voice. He grimaced slightly. "The Ancient and Noble House of Black has traditionally taken the hard line."

"They say we use Dark magic," Hermione murmured.

"Dark magic," Arcturus sneered. "There is no 'dark' or 'light'. Magic _is_ ; it is a part of us and a part of the world. Magic has cycles just as life does. The House of Black does not shirk away from doing what it must to keep the balance."

He paused to frown at his hands. Then he looked up and pinned her with the heat of his glare.

"Do not be afraid of your magic, Hermione," Arcturus urged her. "If your intent is pure, if your need is great enough, the magic will answer as it will."

Hermione nodded. "I promise, Uncle Arcturus."

"Good girl," he murmured. "I think you understand the crest and motto well enough. Cassiopeia said that you were studying the family grimoires. What have you learned?"

"We tie a lot of our spells to blood," Hermione replied promptly.

Arcturus nodded. "We do. That's one of the reasons they call us a 'Dark' family. Why would we do that?"

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. "Because blood, our blood, has magic in it… it has power."

"Such a clever little witch," Arcturus praised her. "Did you choose a spell to practice?"

"I think so," Hermione admitted. "There's a spell that will shock anyone who tries to touch something that belongs to me. I thought that might be a good one for Hogwarts."

Arcturus smirked at her. "I used that one myself. Once they learn their lesson, no one will ever think to look through your things."

Hermione smirked back at him. "That's what Mother said."

"Cassiopeia is a smart witch," Arcturus drawled.

"The odd thing was that there were no wand movements listed," Hermione said with a small frown.

"Why do you suppose that would be?" Arcturus prompted her.

Hermione's brow wrinkled as she thought. "Because… it's a wandless spell? But doesn't that make it weaker?"

"Would it?" Arcturus just looked at her.

Realization dawned in Hermione's eyes. "The caster uses their blood as the focus so that you don't need a wand," she exclaimed.

Arcturus leaned forward and frowned at her. "And can you think of a reason that the Ministry might not like that? Can you think _why_ they want it labeled as a 'dark' spell?"

"Oh! The Ministry controls the wand trade, and they place traces on underage wands." Hermione looked up at Arcturus and was rewarded with another nod.

"I want you to practice the spell you've chosen, and then I want you to show it to me during your next lesson," Arcturus informed her.

"Yes, sir," Hermione murmured.


	3. Hogwarts

_A/N: Merlin help me… this is only part of the First Year. I haven't even made it to Halloween yet._

 _Also, when you read the books JKR makes it pretty clear that both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons have co-ed students. I have no idea why they changed it for the movie._

 _ **Beta Worship:**_ _Auntie_L beta'd this chapter. Any remaining mistakes are, of course, mine. Chocolate and hugs to her for being amazing. :D_

/\/\/\/\/\

 _April 1991, Black Estate_

It was tacitly understood that Hermione was the Black family's last, best hope for continuation. Everything about her upbringing had been decided with that in mind. Cassiopeia had been very strict with her daughter, but the results spoke for themselves. Arcturus found himself enchanted with the little witch. She was such a clever, bright little thing, and she was so curious and eager to learn. When he spent time with her, he was always comforted about his House's future. There was only one thing that marred his enjoyment of her presence.

"But… he is your grandson, isn't he?" Hermione pressed, worry writ upon her small face.

Arcturus grunted and waved a hand at her. "You know that he is."

"And Mother says that family is family," the little witch continued doggedly.

"Yes, yes," Arcturus grumbled.

"I don't understand how you can just abandon family," Hermione protested.

"I didn't abandon him," Arcturus snapped, and scowled at Hermione.

"He was sent to Azkaban without a trial, Cousin Arcturus," Hermione reminded him stubbornly.

"Fine!" Arcturus bellowed. He stood up and towered over Hermione, glaring at her all the while. "I'll call my lawyer in the morning and demand that he figure out how to get Sirius a trial. Satisfied?"

Hermione stared up at him unblinkingly. Then she gave him a cool little smile. "No, Cousin, but it is a good start."

Arcturus stared at her for a minute and then snorted in amusement. "Bless me if you didn't just manipulate me," he grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips. He patted Hermione on the head. "All right, little one. I'll see if there's anything we can do for him."

"And you'll reinstate him?" Hermione asked boldly.

Arcturus sighed. "Yes, yes. I'll have Sirius reinstated."

"Thank you!" Hermione ran to him and almost barreled him over with the force of her hug.

"Don't get so excited just yet," Arcturus cautioned her. He patted the top of her head. "I'll do what I can, but the evidence is pretty damning, Hermione."

Hermione tossed her head arrogantly and sniffed. "Sirius is a Black," she told him haughtily. "There is no way that he did what they say. Mother says that he was no Death Eater… that should be easy enough to prove. He won't have a Dark Mark."

Arcturus smiled fondly at the young witch in front of him. "We'll see."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _June 5, 1991_

 _Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire_

Every year, Lucius and Narcissa threw a lavish party for their only child, and they invited the children of all of their friends and acquaintances. Adrian Pucey hadn't wanted to attend, but his mother had insisted.

"I'm not having you snub the Malfoy family," she had snapped coolly.

"I've seen the brat at dance class often enough," Adrian had protested. "Their class is just before mine, and he's an arrogant little git."

"He could be a tap-dancing Erumpet for all I care," his mother had sniffed. "You're going."

Reluctantly, Adrian had hung out with the older children who were already attending Hogwarts. Marcus Flint was always quiet, and Adrian preferred his company to Graham Montague's. There were rumors that Montague was a half-blood since his mother had mysteriously 'died' without anyone ever having met her. Montague had a huge chip on his shoulder, and a burning need to prove himself and his blood status, which made him a pompous ass to everyone around him.

A slightly chubby wizard was hurrying by them, and he tripped and accidentally fell into Montague.

"Watch where you're going," Montague snapped. "You almost made me drop my punch."

"S-sorry," the boy muttered, flushing, and he tried to hurry away.

"Not so fast," Graham drawled, smirking. "Apologize."

"I just did," the boy said with a confused frown.

"Properly," Graham told him coolly. He poked the boy in the stomach with his wand. "Surely you know how."

The boy flushed. He automatically straightened his spine, and bowed deeply.

"I apologize for any slight I have given," he said clearly.

"Mr. Montague," Graham prompted.

"I apologize for any slight I have given, Mr. Montague," the boy repeated stiffly.

"Better, but I think I'd like to see you do it again… on your knees," Graham drawled.

"What's going on?" A furious voice demanded.

Adrian turned, along with everyone else, to see an angry little witch. She had thick black hair pulled back from her face into a complex French braid that could only have been accomplished by a house-elf. Angry pink spots on her cheeks gave her pale skin a delicate flush, and her brown eyes snapped with fire.

"What's it to you?" Graham taunted her.

The witch's spine snapped straight at that, and an arrogant toss of her head put her little nose in the air.

"As Draco's cousin, I am helping Cousin Narcissa with hostess duties," the little girl snapped. "That includes making sure that gentlemen behave as they ought. Neville, your Gran is looking for you."

The chubby boy turned to give Hermione a polite nod and then scurried away.

Draco's cousin… that would make the girl Hermione Black, Cassiopeia Black's daughter. Everyone knew about the little Muggleborn that wasn't, and everyone had an opinion about it. Adrian's Mother and Father were both very well-read, and they considered Hermione to be Cassiopeia's pureblood daughter. They had explained everything to Adrian, and had cautioned him to be polite to the little witch when she started Hogwarts this coming fall.

Graham sneered at her.

"I'm surprised they allowed you out to mix with _real_ wizards and witches," Graham drawled.

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I would watch my words were I you, Montague," she told him in a cold voice.

"You should learn not to talk back to your betters, Mudblood," Graham spit.

Several people gasped and Flint choked on his tea. The little witch pulled a wand out of a pocket in her robes and turned it on Graham. She muttered something under her breath and performed an intricate movement with her wand. As he started screaming in pain, she turned sharply on her heel and marched passed them.

Curious, Adrian followed her.

"Miss Black," he called to her.

The witch ignored him and kept marching.

"Hermione," he tried again.

The witch kept walking.

"Hey, imp," Adrian called to her.

Hermione turned back and looked at him with a haughty, arrogant expression that did nothing to disguise the tears trembling on her lashes.

"What?" Her voice was tight and she exuded impatience.

"Um, I just wanted to tell you 'good show'," he muttered lamely. He honestly couldn't explain what had possessed him to follow the witch. "Where did you get a wand, anyway?"

"Thanks." She gave a wet chuckle. "It's one of the family wands."

"It's no guess I'll see you in Slytherin, then." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I guess so," she agreed. She bit her lip anxiously. "If I'm Sorted there."

Adrian smirked at her and nudged her shoulder with his arm. "An imp like you? Where else would you go?"

Hermione smiled at him, a bright smile that lit up her eyes.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _July 31, 1991_

 _Diagon Alley_

"Cousin Narcissa, can we go into Flourish & Blotts first?" Hermione begged.

"I want to look at brooms," Draco demanded.

"We can't even take brooms, Draco," Hermione reminded him scathingly.

"Draco, you will go to Madam Malkin's to get fitted for your robes," Narcissa decided with pursed lips. "Once you are done, you may join your father at Quality Quidditch. Hermione, you and I will go to Flourish & Blotts. Remember though, your mother said that you are only allowed three new books aside from your school texts."

"What if I buy them with my allowance?" Hermione tried to negotiate.

Narcissa shook her head and gave her young cousin a regretful smile. "In this, I actually agree with Aunt Cassiopeia. Only three books, Hermione."

"Yes, Cousin Narcissa," Hermione sighed.

In the bookstore, Hermione dawdled, browsing. Luckily, Narcissa loved books just as much as she did and they both perused the shelves happily. Cassiopeia had very firm opinions about the sorts of books that young witches should read, and she didn't believe in what she called 'frivolous' books. A tendril of danger twisted through Hermione as she edged closer to the bright, colorful display of bestsellers.

 _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Vindictus Viridian looked especially promising. Hermione spared a dark thought or two for that wretched toe-rag, Graham Montague. She reached out for the book at the same time as another, and she pulled back her hand in surprise.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," Hermione apologized. "I didn't see you there."

A young wizard with messy black hair blinked at her from behind spectacles. He seemed oddly familiar, and Hermione found herself drawn to him.

"It's okay," he said with a nervous smile. "I didn't see you either."

"Are you getting your Hogwarts' things?" Hermione asked politely.

"Um, yeah," the wizard muttered and flushed.

"Me too," Hermione told him with a smile. "I'm shopping with my cousins. Mother was in the middle of an important Potions experiment and couldn't leave it."

"Oh," the boy seemed to deflate. "Are you from one of those old wizarding families then?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said proudly, her chest puffing out. "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"Oh."

"There ye are," A giant of a man boomed. "I wondered where ye got off to. C'mon, we've got loads left ter do."

The boy went with him willingly, leaving Hermione behind, frowning to herself.

"Hermione?" Narcissa stood in front of her with a slightly disapproving expression. "You're not getting _that_ are you?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, Cousin Narcissa."

"Good girl," Narcissa praised her. "Besides, the Black libraries have much better spells."

"I know," Hermione said and nibbled on her lower lip. "It's just… this is what all the other kids will have, right? I should know the countercurses, at least."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "That's true," she murmured at last. She grabbed two copies. "Don't tell your mother," she muttered as they moved toward the register.

"Of course not," Hermione scoffed.

"Now, let's go get you fitted at Madam Malkin's," Narcissa said with a wicked little smile.

"Really?" Hermione bounced in excitement. "How did you convince Mother to let you?"

Narcissa smirked. "I didn't even try. I just had your mother agree to let me take you shopping for your Hogwarts things. That includes the robes, she just didn't think of that."

"That was brilliant," Hermione sighed happily, her encounter with the strangely familiar black-haired, bespectacled boy temporarily forgotten.

"And then we can both go to Quality Quidditch and see if we can't drag the boys away from the latest display," Narcissa added with a little smile.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _September 1, 1991_

 _Platform 9 ¾_

"Mother, we're going to be late," Hermione whinged.

"We are not going to be late, Hermione. And don't whinge," Cassiopeia added as they made their way to Platform 9 ¾.

"Neville!" Hermione called happily and hurried to hug her friend. She pulled back. "Where's Trevor? Does he like the carry-case we got you for your birthday?"

Neville held up the little carry-case that Hermione had ordered for Neville for his birthday. Trevor was sitting in a small pile of grass, watching the commotion about him with all the equanimity a toad could muster.

"It works a treat, Hermione," Neville said excitedly. "Thank you."

Hermione grinned back at him and then turned to make her curtsy to Mrs Longbottom.

"How do you do, Aunt Augusta?" Hermione asked.

"I'm very well, young lady," Aunt Augusta told her sternly. She gave Hermione a once-over and then turned to look at Cassiopeia. "Is that what young ladies are wearing to Hogwarts now?" She asked in a scandalized voice.

"Apparently so," Cassiopeia sniffed derisively.

"Absolutely shocking," Augusta murmured. "You can practically see her knees! Why in our day, the skirts hit mid-calf."

Hermione scowled down at her new pleated skirt. "It's not that short," she protested.

"Just you make sure that you don't roll your skirt any higher," Cassiopeia told her darkly. "If I hear reports that you've got your knees on display for all and sundry, you'll be in Durmstrang so fast your head will spin."

"Yes, Mother," Hermione sighed.

"You'll need to get your things on board," Cassiopeia said, looking at her watch.

Hermione hurried forward and hugged her mother tightly. Then she turned and gave her Aunt Augusta a hug as well. Both women hugged her back.

"Here." Augusta pulled out her wand and waved it over Hermione's trunk, and then Neville's. "The Featherlight Charm will help you get your trunk on board. Now get along. Make sure you write and let us know how you were Sorted."

"Yes, ma'am," Neville and Hermione chorused.

They waved excitedly and then hurried toward the train with their trunks in tow. Everywhere was full, and Neville and Hermione pushed through until they found a boy struggling with his trunk in an empty compartment. Hermione and Neville automatically moved forward to help him. He huffed his thanks and then watched with wide eyes, as they easily hefted and stowed their own trunks.

"How…," he trailed off.

"Featherlight Charms," Hermione explained. "Neville's Gran did them for us so that we could lift them ourselves."

"Oh."

"It's you," Hermione realized suddenly. "You're the boy from Flourish & Blotts."

"Oh, er, yeah, I am," he said quietly.

"We were never properly introduced," Hermione told him with a frown. "I'm Hermione Black, and this is my friend, Neville Longbottom."

"Harry Potter," the boy said so quietly they had to strain to hear him.

Hermione gasped. "I should have realized! That's why you looked so familiar!"

Harry seemed to hunch in on himself. "Because I'm supposed to be famous?" He snapped with a frown.

Hermione frowned back at him. "No, because you're my cousin."

He blinked at her in surprise. "What?"

"Your grandmother Dorea was my mother's little sister," Hermione explained and then smiled at him. "I used to go to your Grandfather Potter's house when you were a baby."

"You did?" The stunned expression on the boy's face spoke volumes.

"You didn't know about us? About your family?" Hermione demanded. "Just wait until I write Mother. She'll be furious. She pestered Dumbledore about your custody. She's your great-aunt, and she wanted to raise you."

"She did?" An expression of wonder had taken over.

Hermione nodded firmly. "Yes. You would have been raised with me at Blackwell Estate."

"Wow." Harry appeared shocked.

"I hope you don't think me forward, but I'd like to invite you for Christmas break," Hermione told him. "Once Mother finds out about this, she'll insist upon it. You can come to Blackwell and we can show you pictures of your mother and father and your grandparents. Mother has a picture of you and me in the parlour."

"You have pictures, of my mother and father?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Mother can make copies for you at Christmas," Hermione decided. "You can choose which ones you want."

"I… I would like to come for Christmas," Harry said hesitantly.

"Excellent." Hermione beamed at him. "I'll write Mother tonight."

The door of the compartment slid open and a tall, red-headed boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head, and the boy sat down next to him.

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," the boy blurted out.

Hermione eyed him curiously. "Hermione Black."

"Neville Longbottom," Neville murmured.

"Harry Potter," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"Cor," Ron breathed, staring at Harry. "Are you really?"

"Why on earth would he lie about who he is?" Hermione demanded irritably.

Ron glared at her. Then he turned back to Harry with an expression of awe. "Have you really got the — you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who —?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Really!" Hermione snapped with an expression of distaste on her face. "Could you be a little _less_ excited when asking for the gruesome details of my cousin and his wife's deaths?"

Ron's face suffused with colour and he glared at her again.

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry assured her. "I really can't remember anything except a green flash of light."

Hermione and Neville paled, but Ron stared at him in fascination.

"I had heard that you were sent to live with Muggles," Ron murmured, as a way to break the tension.

"Muggles!" Hermione frowned at Ron, and then turned to look at Harry. "Why would you be sent to live with Muggles? You had family in the wizarding world that would have loved to have raised you."

Ron snorted. "They wouldn't have let the Boy-Who-Lived go live with the Blacks," he scoffed. "Everyone knows you're all Dark wizards."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Then 'everyone' is a flaming idiot," she retorted.

"Look here," Ron growled when the door to their compartment slid open.

Standing in the hall was the older boy from Draco's birthday party. He was tall, even taller than Ron Weasley, and his blue eyes swept the compartment. His Slytherin robes were immaculate, his tie tied just so and his robes worn to their greatest effect. Hermione had heard the girls in dancing class swooning over Adrian Pucey's handsome face.

"Everything going well, imp?" He asked curiously.

Hermione nodded to him. "Yes, thank you, Pucey."

The Pucey boy eyed Ron Weasley for a moment and then turned back to Hermione.

"If you need help, just give us a shout," he said. He smirked at her and slid the door shut.

Ron snorted again. "No guess as to which house _you'll_ be in," he sneered.

"Of course not," Hermione agreed. "Just as there is almost no question that Neville and Harry will be Gryffindors."

Harry blinked. "There isn't?"

"The Potters are always in Gryffindor," Hermione explained. "And your Mum was in Gryffindor as well."

A pleased smile spread over Harry's face. "They were?"

"Yes," Hermione told him firmly.

"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin," Ron muttered darkly.

"So what if he was," Hermione countered with a sniff. "Yardley Platt was a Hufflepuff, and Barty Crouch, Jr., was a Ravenclaw. House affiliation has nothing to do with whether or not a wizard or witch tries to declare themselves a Dark Lord."

Ron mumbled something under his breath and began to ignore Hermione. She turned to Neville who shrugged helplessly. Hermione huffed and pulled a book out of her robe pocket to read.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _Family_. Harry had lived with his aunt and uncle, and his cousin Dudley, but he didn't really consider them family. They certainly didn't think of him as family. The serious-looking witch with her hair plaited into braids had said that she was his cousin. That he had a great-aunt that had wanted to raise him with this stiffly formal girl filled him with a strange, warm feeling. They wanted him to come for Christmas. The Dursleys never wanted him around for anything.

Ron, the boy whose mother had helped him through the barrier, didn't seem to like his cousin Hermione very much, but Harry almost thought he rather liked her. She was stiff, and a little sharp, but Harry knew that he could be like that upon occasion, as well.

When Hermione had said that he would almost definitely be in Gryffindor—that so had 'all the Potters' and his Mum—he'd felt a sense of relief, of belonging. He'd been so worried about the Sorting, but Hermione wasn't worried at all. She seemed completely confident about it, and that reassured him.

As they stood in the Great Hall waiting to be Sorted, Hermione flashed a smile at Neville and took his hand. Harry found himself slightly jealous of the close friendship between his new-found cousin and Neville Longbottom. That could have been him. If Hermione's mum had raised them together, he would be the one she'd be whispering encouragement to. She turned to him and flashed a bright smile.

"Abbot, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called.

The young witch hurried to the stool, put the hat on, and sat down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

One of the tables erupted into cheers, and Harry watched the girl go to that table and sit down.

"Black, Hermione!"

Whispers erupted at some of the tables, and Harry watched his new cousin's spine stiffen and her chin go up. She marched toward the stool, and Harry saw the blond boy that he'd met at Madam Malkin's give her a nod and a slight smile. He could see Hermione nod back and swallow before she took the hat and put it on her head. The hat barely touched her head before it called out—

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered next to him.

The blond boy looked really pleased at Hermione's Sorting, but Neville seemed to slump a bit. Harry tried to give him a friendly nudge.

"Alright there, Neville?" he asked.

"Yeah," Neville mumbled. "I mean, I knew she'd go to Slytherin. She's a Black and all, I just… I'll miss her."

"Well, we'll get to see her again, won't we?" Harry asked, suddenly worried.

Neville shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. It won't be the same though."

/\/\/\/\/\

When Millicent Bulstrode was Sorted into Slytherin, Hermione felt a wave of relief go through her. Millicent gave her a little smile and sat next to her.

"Oh great, we've got a Mudblood and a cow, Slytherin standards sure have taken a nosedive," Graham Montague said just loudly enough for Hermione and Millicent to hear him, but not loudly enough to attract the prefects' attentions.

Hermione concentrated on her breathing. She risked glancing at Millicent who was staring at her hands in her lap, her cheeks pink. The last couple years, Millicent had put on a bit of weight; that, coupled with the fact that she had a sturdy frame had made her one of the least popular dance partners in dancing class. Hermione silently reached over and took Millicent's hand, her eyes fixed on the Sorting stool, and squeezed. After a moment, Millicent squeezed back.

Once the Sorting feast was over, the prefects took them to the dungeons and showed them the Slytherin dormitories. Hermione bit back a gasp as she looked around. Large windows glimmered with a dim, green light. As something large swam by, she realized that they were under the Black Lake, and that their windows looked out onto the lake.

"The girl's dormitories are through here," the prefect said crisply. "First years have the first room on the right. Your trunks and things are already there."

The girls filed into the room silently and all eyed one another cautiously. Hermione knew Millicent, Pansy, and Daphne Greengrass from dancing class. Tracey Davis was not familiar to her. Hermione moved to stand near Millicent.

"We'll get him," Hermione muttered quietly.

Millicent caught her eye and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Does anyone have a preference for where they sleep?" Tracey asked.

"Millie will sleep next to _me_ ," Pansy announced with a pointed look in Hermione's direction.

Daphne turned slightly so that Pansy couldn't see her and rolled her eyes at Hermione, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"Then Hermione will sleep next to _me_ ," Daphne retorted imperiously.

"Fine," Pansy snapped.

"Fine." Daphne smirked at Pansy in triumph.

The girls settled their things, and then Hermione clambered into her bed and pulled out her collapsible writing desk.

 _Dear Mother,_

 _As I'm sure you guessed, I was Sorted into Slytherin. I hope to make you proud of me, and bring honour to the Ancient and Noble House of Black._

 _Harry was on the train, as we thought he might be. I have invited him to come home with me for Christmas. I know that was presumptuous of me, but he didn't know anything about his own family! Harry was sent to live with Muggle relatives who have shared nothing of his family with him. It isn't right, Mother. I've promised him that we could get him copies of our pictures… I don't think he even knows what his mother and father looked like._

 _Also, could you send me my hexing journal? I foolishly left it in my bedroom. Beaker can get it for you. I miss all of you already. Try to remember to take regular breaks, and make sure that you don't skip meals. I love you, Mother. See you at Christmas._

 _Yours,_

 _Hermione_

/\/\/\/\/\

The first week of school had been… acceptable. Hermione was still feeling her way through Hogwarts, adjusting to the differences between private one-on-one lessons and classes with a room full of other people.

So far she loved all of her classes, except History. Hermione had always loved her History lessons with Cousin Arcturus, but this class—taught by a ghost—was utterly boring.

Herbology, with Professor Sprout had been lovely. She knew most of the plants that they had studied so far, but she had missed Uncle Roderick more than she'd realized. She wondered if Herbology would bother Neville, and promised herself to check with him sometime this week.

Charms and Transfiguration both promised to be quite interesting. Hermione paid careful attention to both professors and took careful notes.

Potions had been dismal. Professor Snape had been less than impressed with Hermione's desire to share what she knew, and for some reason he had a grudge against her cousin Harry. His distaste for Harry had been mild compared to his fury with poor Neville. Hermione had bit her lip. Neville had done so much better with Mother. Then again, Mother took the time to explain everything that she was doing as she did it, and why.

In her more charitable moods, Hermione was willing to admit that Professor Snape really didn't have the time to do that. There were over twenty children, and all of them were at different levels of Potions skills. Hermione and her lab partner Daphne turned in their perfectly brewed potions silently. Tracey looked miserably unhappy paired with Blaise Zabini, who was mostly ignoring her.

"What's with Davis?" Hermione asked Daphne as they walked to their dorms.

Daphne had shrugged carelessly. "How should I know?" she asked airily.

"Well, why was Blaise ignoring her then?" Hermione demanded.

"Honestly, Hermione, how on earth would I know?" Daphne asked her with wide eyes.

Hermione snorted. "Fine, I'll go ask Pansy. _She_ always knows."

"She's a half-blood," Daphne blurted out, and then glanced around and flushed.

"So?" Hermione motioned that Daphne should continue.

"Blaise didn't want to partner with her," Daphne said with a shrug. "I don't know why, but I think it's because she's a half-blood."

"That's silly," Hermione muttered. "He partnered with Lisa Turpin in dancing class and she is a half-blood."

Daphne shrugged. "Then I don't know."

"I don't know the name Davis," Hermione admitted as they continued to walk.

"Her mother was a Bagshot," Daphne whispered.

Hermione blinked. "Interesting."

/\/\/\/\/\

Flying Class had seemed like a colossal waste of time to Hermione. She already knew how to fly a broom, and had for years. In addition, the school brooms were almost laughably bad. Hermione felt nothing but pity for the poor Muggleborn students. If _this_ had been her first exposure to flying, she probably would have come away terrified of ever flying again.

Then Neville had been injured, and all of Hermione's protective instincts came roaring to the fore. She had gone with Neville and Madam Hooch to the infirmary, so she had completely missed Draco acting like an idiot.

Draco had been showing off like a prat the entire time leading up to classes. Hermione had tried to get him to tone it down, but Draco had become increasingly unreasonable lately.

"I don't see why you need to go meet Neville and _Harry Potter_ in the library," Draco sulked.

"You know that Neville is my friend, and Harry, as you also know, is my cousin," Hermione told him for what felt like the hundredth time.

" _I'm_ your cousin," Draco muttered.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, you are. But so is Harry. You're going to have to get used to it."

Draco mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _I don't want to_ , but Hermione ignored him. She turned away to see Millicent leave the Girl's dorm and head over to where she was sitting next to Draco on a low couch.

"Hermione, are you ready?" Millicent asked.

"Oh! Yes. I'll see you later, Draco," she said over her shoulder as she stood up.

His response was a sulky grunt.

The two girls left the Slytherin Common Room with their heads bowed close together.

"Did your mum send your journal?" Millicent asked once they'd left the Common Room.

"Of course," Hermione replied with a grin. "Let's find an empty classroom and we can practice."

Finding an empty classroom was the easy part. Practicing different hexes was harder.

"I can't wait to see his stupid, smug face," Millicent panted as she cast hex after hex on an old desk.

"Me either," Hermione agreed.

"How dare he call you a Mudblood," Millicent continued, scowling. "Everyone knows that Cassiopeia did the _Sanguinem Familia_ spell. Everyone knows that you're a proper pureblood. You've been raised to it from the cradle."

"How dare he call you a cow," Hermione countered angrily. "So what if you're a bit… fluffy? I think you look just fine. Mother says that we're all growing and that in a few years we'll all look completely different."

"Pansy says that Montague is self-conscious," Millicent admitted when they paused for a break. "His mum supposed to be a pureblood, but no one knows who she is. That's never a good sign. Pansy says that he's tearing us down to feel better about himself."

"Pansy's probably right," Hermione acknowledged. "That doesn't mean we aren't going to make him pay for what he said."

"No, of course not," Millicent agreed.

They waited until the perfect opportunity. Millicent was very good at waiting. Hermione was not, but Millicent convinced her that patience was their friend. Finally, it was time.

Montague was a late riser, and he always came to breakfast late. Millicent and Hermione made sure that they were both seated in the perfect location to hex him. They had decided on a combination of the _Steleus_ Hex, which made the victim sneeze, and a Sardine Hex, which made sardines shoot out of a person's nose. The result would be both repulsive, and horribly embarrassing. They had chosen those hexes because they were a little advanced, and no one would think to suspect ickle firsties of being capable of producing them successfully.

When Montague sat down at the table, he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Hermione nudged Millicent who tried to hold her wand as unobtrusively as possible. She made the motion under the table and muttered the hex under her breath. Hermione followed almost right on top of her.

The result was… hideously entertaining. Montague was taken by a sneezing fit, and every time he sneezed, sardines shot out of his nose. The girls near him began shrieking in disgust and pulling away. The boys were all laughing and pointing. Everyone in the Great Hall was soon laughing and pointing. Montague jumped up from the table and fled.

Everything had gone perfectly. Once Hermione finished her breakfast she put her bookbag over her shoulder and left the table with a smirk.

Outside the Great Hall, Adrian Pucey was leaning against a pillar talking to Marcus Flint. He winked at her when he spotted her.

"Nice work, imp," he called as she passed.

Hermione raised her chin in the air, ignoring him, but her cheeks turned pink as she continued down the hall.


	4. The Importance of Family

**_A/N:_** _I actually read through the Philosopher's Stone (again) to double-check myself, and I'm glad that I did. The movies, while they are lovely and will always hold a place in my heart, leave out or change a lot from the books. In the movie, with the scene of the Mirror of Erised, it only shows Harry's parents, and we're led to believe that his focus is solely on his dead parents. In the books, it stresses that Harry longed for a family, and he saw *all* of his family in mirror-aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents-along with his parents._

 _That was where the inspiration for most of this chapter came from._

 _Familial relationships- Hermione and Draco are in the same age group and they have been raised in close contact with one another. Technically, Hermione's actual cousin is Cygnus, and Draco would be her cousin twice-removed, but they don't really quibble about the technicalities. They consider one another family, and that's all that counts for them._

 _Yes, Harry is also a cousin of Draco's, but in the books Draco doesn't seem to care. [As I've been reading the Philosopher's Stone again, Draco taunts Harry about the fact that he doesn't have 'any family that wants him'... which would include Draco.] He never trades on their relationship, and he never attempts to bring it to Harry's attention. I will address this in a bit, but I'm working up to it. Throwing too much information at Harry at once will overwhelm him. Cassiopeia, and Hermione to a lesser extant, understand this, and are trying to ease him in slowly._

 ** _Blatant Beta Adoration:_** _Auntie_ __L is amazing, and I am so grateful that I have her. :)_

* * *

 _October 31, 1991_

 _Hogwarts_

Waking up on the morn of Samhain was almost surreal; this was the first time that Hermione had not spent Samhain with her mother. She woke up earlier than normal and dressed quickly. A feeling of homesickness and longing almost overwhelmed her, but she viciously tamped it down. She hurried out to the Common Room and then out of the dungeons all together. Just as she slipped out of the Slytherin dorms, she ran into someone and fell on her bum.

"Ow," she muttered.

"What are you doing out of bed so early, imp?" Adrian Pucey asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He frowned at her and held out a hand. "You shouldn't leave the dorms by yourself. You may not have noticed yet, but we aren't the most popular House, and there is safety in numbers."

Hermione took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She brushed at her skirt and murmured a soft 'thank you' for his assistance.

"It's Samhain," she explained with an anxious expression. "I need to get an offering from breakfast before it's all picked over."

"You follow the old traditions," Adrian said in surprise. Then he grimaced and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. You're a Black. Come on, imp. I'll escort you to the kitchens. The house-elves have offering packets made up for the families that still honour the old ways."

Hermione followed Adrian to a hallway, where Adrian showed her how to get into the kitchens. A house-elf hurried forward to see what they needed, and minutes later, placed a small, neatly wrapped package in Hermione's hands.

"Thank you," she told the house-elf feelingly.

The house-elf nodded and smiled and shooed them out of the kitchen, then Adrian took her back to the dungeons. He led her into the Common Room and then turned to her.

"Just remember, don't leave the dorms by yourself. Do you have incense?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she admitted.

"Hang on, I think I've got some in my trunk," he told her. "I'll be right back."

Once Hermione had her incense and her offering, she went back into her room and cleared off the top of her dresser. She set everything up carefully. All of the pictures were at home, but Hermione had inscribed a scroll with everyone's names and set that up next to the offering. Then, she stood in front of her dresser with her head bowed, and sent up a quick, silent prayer for her deceased family members. There would be no visiting Godric's Hollow today, but she would do her duty as a daughter of her House.

"What's that smell?" Tracey Davis asked sleepily as she got up for the day.

"Incense," Hermione replied quietly. She gestured at the small altar she'd made on her dresser.

"Oh," Tracey murmured softly. "It's… it's Halloween today, isn't it?"

"Samhain," Hermione corrected her absently. "Today is set aside to remember and to honour those who have died."

"My mother died when I was small," Tracey confessed. "And then Dad didn't want anything to do with her family."

"We should light some incense for your mother," Hermione decided.

Tracey looked at her hopefully. "Will you help me? I mean, make sure I do it properly?"

"Of course. Do you have a picture of your mother?" She asked quietly.

Tracey nodded, and pulled out a small, oval frame from under her pillow. Hermione helped her clear off the top of her dresser, and then helped her put up the picture of her mother. Tracey lit the incense carefully, and Hermione took a bit from her offering to set on Tracey's dresser.

"There," Hermione murmured.

"What do I do?" Tracey asked nervously.

Hermione shrugged. "It's different for each person. Mother has always said that it was up to you. If you want to talk to your mother, or say a prayer for her, or just think about her. Any of that is fine. At home, we always went to the family crypt and set out wreaths and bouquets for our family. This… this is the first year I won't be going with Mother to Godric's Hollow," she confessed.

"That sounds… nice," Tracey offered with an awkward smile. "I think I'll just talk to her."

"Do it silently," Pansy groaned. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Tracey who covered her mouth with her hand to muffle a giggle. She jerked her head toward the Common Room and Tracey nodded with a shy smile.

Sitting in the Common Room and waiting for Tracey, Hermione was surprised when someone sat down next to her. She turned and came face to face with the grumpy countenance of her cousin Draco. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes again; ever since Draco's idiotic plan to get Harry in trouble by challenging him to a Midnight Duel, things had been strained between the two of them.

Being a pureblood child was mostly a solitary existence—the majority of them didn't have siblings. Cousins were as close as most pureblood children came to having a brother or sister. Still, Draco was taking it a bit too far.

"Are you still mad at me?" Hermione asked quietly.

A sulky grunt was her only answer.

"But you're still here to walk me to the Great Hall?" Hermione guessed.

Draco scowled.

"If you would rather not, I'll just go with Tracey Davis," Hermione sighed, tired of fighting.

" _I'll_ take you," he muttered. "You're _my_ cousin."

"You can escort Tracey, too," Hermione snapped. "Pucey says that we shouldn't leave the dorms by ourselves."

"Pucey? _Pucey_?" Draco's pale face grew pink. "What does _he_ have to do with anything?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Draco!" Hermione stood up when she saw Tracey come out of the girl's dorm. She turned to glare at him. "Grow up!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Charms had started out beautifully, but quickly became an absolute nightmare. When Professor Flitwick had announced that they were ready to start making objects fly there was a murmur of excitement that rippled through the classroom. Hermione rather thought that the Professor was trying to make the day fun for students who might be homesick, and missing the family togetherness of Samhain. She filed that away for later, but if it proved true, it would raise the Professor in her estimations.

Professor Flitwick, not realizing that he was adding fuel to flame, paired Hermione and Draco together to practice. Hermione listened respectfully while the Professor gave them their instructions. Draco rolled his eyes and ignored the Professor.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" he reminded them, perched on a stack of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And proper enunciation is the key to a successful incantation. Let us not forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Mother and her other tutors had drilled Hermione on proper pronunciation and proper wand movements over and over again. Hermione had already read this chapter over, and had practiced her swish and flick with the bed-hangings pulled closed so that the other girls wouldn't tease her for being an over-achiever.

Around her, the other Slytherins struggled to cast the Levitation Charm properly. Crabbe had managed to blow up his feather, and Blaise sat next to him with a disgruntled expression. Pansy and Daphne were whispering to one another rather than focussing on the task at hand, and Millicent was trying to correct Tracey's wand movements.

" _Win_ -gar-dium Levi-o- _sar_ ," Draco muttered, and then he Flicked and swished.

Hermione glared at her cousin. "Maybe if you'd paid attention, you'd know how to do it properly," she snapped. "You're saying it all wrong, and your wand movements are sloppy and haphazard."

Draco glared back at her. "Fine. Why don't you show me how it's done, Miss Perfect?"

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked and swished her wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered several feet above their heads. Draco's scowl grew worse, especially when Professor Flitwick noticed and praised her in front of the entire class.

"Well done, Miss Black," he cheered.

After class, Draco was so angry that he left without her. She grabbed up her book bag and hurried after him. Draco was walking with the other Slytherin boys, and she could hear him ranting angrily.

"I don't know why she has to show me up at every single opportunity," Draco raged. "And if that's not bad enough she's always running off to check on Crybaby Neville and that stupid scar-head Potter. It's like she hasn't got any House loyalty at all. She's in Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. She might as well not even _be_ my cousin. Maybe I'd be better off if she wasn't."

Draco's words hit Hermione with the emotional impact of the Hogwarts Express. She stopped in the hall, frozen. _He didn't want to be her cousin anymore?_ Family was the most important thing in Hermione's world. Her heart squeezed tightly in her chest and she could feel the tears clogging her throat. Emotional public displays were not the done thing. Hermione bit her lip to keep her sobs in check and ran, hoping to get away from everyone before she started crying. She knocked into Draco on her way by, but she kept running.

/\/\/\/\/\

"I think you made her cry," Theo Nott murmured quietly.

Draco turned pink and hunched his shoulders. "So what if I did?" He scoffed.

Inside, Draco felt a part of him shrivel up inside. He and Hermione fought like kneazles and crups, but he'd never, ever made her cry before. He'd meant what he'd said at his grandfather's funeral, Hermione was as close as he was ever going to get to having a sister. Maybe he was a little jealous of stupid Harry Potter and his stupid scar sweeping in and taking over _his_ cousin.

When she didn't appear in their next class, Draco's guilt grew. His father and mother had tried to lecture him before school this year, and that conversation weighed on him heavily.

" _Now, Draco, entrance into Hogwarts can be viewed as practice for your entrance into proper wizarding society. You will learn to make the right sorts of friends, and become acquainted with the right sorts of witches as you begin to plan for your future," Lucius had droned on._

" _I know all that, father," Draco protested._

" _The thing you must remember is that Hermione must do all of this as well," Narcissa reminded him. "Your father is speaking to you about this now because you have a tendency to treat Hermione as though she is a possession. She is not; she's your cousin. She has her own House responsibilities and duties, and that includes making friends and spending time with other people."_

 _Draco scowled._

" _Hermione is an obedient daughter to her House," Lucius praised his wife's cousin. "Do not make her job any harder than it is, Draco."_

" _I would never!"_

 _Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance and then looked at their son._

" _I will hope that this is so," Lucius murmured. He fixed Draco with a pointed look. "Do not disappoint me."_

When Draco went in to dinner, and realized that Hermione wasn't there, his mood dipped even lower. He picked at his food listlessly until he heard Tracey Davis speaking to Daphne Greengrass.

"Hermione showed me how to make a shrine for my mother and everything," Tracey was saying quietly. "She even gave me incense to light for her."

"The Blacks are very traditional," Daphne murmured. She paused and nibbled on a slice of pumpkin bread. "Still, it was very thoughtful of her."

"She said that it was the first year she hadn't been able to go to Godric's Hollow with her mother," Tracey continued.

"Samhain is all about family," Daphne offered.

Draco's heart sank. _It was Samhain_. How could he have forgotten? Today was supposed to be all about family, and he'd basically told Hermione that he didn't want her to be part of his family anymore. His appetite deserted him completely at that point.

Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, white as a sheet, and flung himself at Dumbledore. He appeared to be utterly terrified.

"There's a troll! In the Dungeons! Thought you should know," he managed to get out before he fainted dead away.

Complete pandemonium broke out until the Headmaster sent up firecrackers to silence the muttering students.

"Prefects will take their Houses back to their dormitories immediately!" He bellowed.

Draco frowned and turned to his fellow housemates. "Isn't our dorm in the dungeons?" He demanded.

"Not technically," a prefect named Selwyn explained. "We're actually under the dungeons. Anyway, we're going to use one of the secret tunnels to get to the dorms. There's no way a troll could fit in there."

"Is everyone here?" Another prefect asked.

Draco froze with fear. "No," he blurted out. "Hermione's not here."

The prefect frowned at him. "Well, where is she?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She was upset."

"She's in the girl's bathroom," Millicent said quietly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," the prefect snapped. "I haven't got time to dig through every girl's bathroom. She'll just have to wait until we get you lot back to the dorms."

Draco followed along, but he tried to lag behind without doing it noticeably. Theo fell back with him, and so did Millicent.

"What are you up to, Draco?" Millicent whispered.

"Hermione, she doesn't even know there's a troll loose in the school," he muttered anxiously. "And… it's all my fault."

Theo snorted and muttered, "That's true enough."

"So, what, you're off to rescue her?" Millicent demanded with an incredulous expression. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"She's my cousin," Draco retorted. "Go on back if you want to, I won't stop you."

"She's my cousin, too, you prat," Millicent hissed. "I'll come with you."

Theo sighed. "This is a stupid idea," he muttered, but he followed them down the hall.

Among the most terrifying moments of Draco's life, even as he grew older, was seeing his cousin pressed against the wall of the bathroom, her eyes wide with terror. Something broke inside Draco at the sight of Hermione, his _family_ , in danger. Without any thought of self-preservation, he leapt forward and threw himself at the troll who was menacing his cousin. He clung to the back of the troll.

"Run," he bellowed at Hermione who appeared to be frozen with fear.

"Have you gone mad?" Theo demanded.

"Just get her out of here," Draco threw over his shoulder.

"Get away from him, Draco, I've got an idea," Millicent called.

Draco let himself drop, and rolled quickly away from the troll, trying to draw him away from Hermione. Millicent performed a quick _Wingardium Leviosa_ and dropped the troll's club onto its head with a sickening crack. The troll fell over, unconscious, and they stared at it for a moment. Theo was closest to Hermione so he hurried over to check on her and make sure that she was alright.

With a broken sob, Hermione flung herself into Theo's arms and began to shake from delayed nerves.

"It's alright," Theo murmured softly and patted her back awkwardly. He sent a horrified look in Draco's direction.

Draco came over and gently took Hermione from Theo.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he muttered into her hair. "This was all my fault. I didn't mean it. I'm happy you're my cousin. Really I am."

"He's just a stupid, jealous git who isn't used to sharing anything with anyone," Millicent added with a glare for Draco.

Hermione tried to laugh and ended up hiccupping.

"It's true," Theo agreed, and Hermione ended up laughing hysterically and hiccupping at the same time.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall demanded furiously.

All four Slytherins turned to face her, and their Head of House, with pale faces.

"It's my fault," Hermione lied wildly, putting herself in front of her cousins and Theo. "I… I've read about trolls in the Black family library and I thought that I… that I could subdue one."

Snape watched her with narrowed eyes, but he didn't say anything while McGonagall ranted about the impropriety of First Years disobeying and haring off after dangerous beings. His eye twitched, but he didn't say a word when she docked points from Slytherin for Hermione's idiocy. He herded them toward the door, leaving her behind with Quirrell and the troll.

"Five points for each of you to Slytherin for House unity," he muttered at them. He eyed each one of them and scowled. "We'll be discussing this later, and I'll be writing to each of your parents."

The four of them hurried away after exchanging anxious glances.

"Thank you," Hermione muttered as their dorms came into view.

"Thanks," the others muttered back.

/\/\/\/\/\

Hermione was in an agony of indecision. She had been raised to value loyalty to one's family over all else, but at the same time she was now required to give her allegiance to Slytherin. It was the first Quidditch match of the season, the first match that Harry would be playing in, and it was against her House.

It didn't help that Draco was suffused with jealousy over Harry's position as Seeker for the Gryffindor team. He ranted and raved at any given opportunity about the unfairness of it all. Hermione was heartily sick of the whole thing, and if she never heard of Quidditch again it would be too soon.

Draco threw himself onto a couch next to Hermione and sighed heavily. "If you want to cheer him on, I won't say anything," he muttered darkly.

"What?" Hermione looked up from her book to frown at him.

"Harry is your cousin, too," Draco admitted with an expression that said it was killing him to have to say this. "If you want to support him, I understand."

Hermione blinked. "That's very mature of you, Draco," she said at last.

"You don't have to sound so surprised about it," he complained.

"I thought she didn't sound surprised enough," Theo observed from his chair.

Draco glared at Theo.

"What brought this on?" Hermione asked curiously.

Draco flushed. "I'm trying to be better."

"It _is_ his very first game," Hermione said, and she cast a worried glance toward the Slytherin team who sitting over by the windows that looked out onto the lake.

Adrian Pucey turned at that moment, and caught Hermione watching them. He automatically winked at her, but when he realized that she was upset he cocked his head at her in silent enquiry. Embarrassed to be caught staring, Hermione shook her head and turned away.

Later, Hermione was sitting in the library frowning at her Charms essay. Someone sat down across from her, and Hermione looked up with a scowl ready to tell whoever-it-was to take a hike and let her work in peace. Blue eyes watched her curiously, and the words froze on Hermione's tongue.

"What had you so upset earlier, imp?" Adrian asked her quietly.

Hermione flushed. "Harry Potter is my cousin," she replied softly.

Understanding dawned on his face. "You're afraid that big, bad Slytherin will chew him up and spit him out?" He guessed, and he appeared to be vaguely offended.

"I know that my House will defend its title with honour," she retorted stiffly. Then she paused and bit her lip. "It's just… he's so small compared to everyone else."

"As a Seeker, that's actually an advantage," Adrian pointed out.

"I know," she admitted. "I just… he'd never flown before he came to Hogwarts. He doesn't really understand how brutal Quidditch can be, and I…"

"You're worried about him," sighed Adrian. He sat forward. "I can tell you that I, for one, won't try to do anything to hurt your cousin."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

Adrian stood and gave her a formal little bow before he turned and left.

/\/\/\/\/\

The first Quidditch game of the season and it was Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Draco loved Quidditch more than anything, and he was filled with excitement for the game. Privately, he hoped that Potter disgraced himself so badly that they kicked him off the team, but he wasn't so gormless as to say so in front of Hermione.

The game started out well, but it quickly degenerated from there. His arm had gone completely numb from Hermione gripping it so tightly, and his left ear had a ringing noise from her shrieks of fear. When Potter's broom had gone wonky, Hermione almost went mental. She was shaking him and whimpering to herself.

"Someone has got to be cursing his broom," Pansy muttered.

At that, Hermione snatched the binoculars out of Theo's hands and began to scan the stands. Her eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on Professor Snape. She knew that her Head of House didn't care for Harry, but this… this was beyond the pale. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she realized that his lips were moving and his eyes were fixed on Harry. She growled under her breath and handed the binoculars back to Theo.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded.

"It's better if you don't know," Hermione snapped. "Just… stay here for a minute."

Quietly and stealthily, she made her way towards the Potions Master. The crowd was focused on Harry trying to stay on his suddenly bucking broom, and no one noticed one little First Year slipping among the bleachers. With precision, she set fire to Professor Snape's robes, distracting him. Then she scuttled back to Draco who was staring at her in shock.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, cousin," he muttered at her.

Hermione smirked at him. "See that you don't, cousin."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _Christmas Holidays 1991_

 _Platform 9 ¾_

"Mother!"

Harry watched as Hermione ran to hug a stern-looking, older witch with thick black hair pulled back into a heavy chignon. She was speaking a mile a minute and waving her hands excitedly. She grabbed the older witch's hand and tugged her toward Harry.

"Mother, _this_ is Cousin Harry," Hermione introduced him. Then she turned to Harry and gestured toward her mother with a proud smile. "Harry, this is my mother, Cassiopeia Black."

Cassiopeia's stern expression slid into a small smile, and she inclined her head politely. Harry bowed the way that Hermione had taught him in preparation for this moment.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Great-Aunt Cassiopeia," Harry recited carefully.

"The pleasure is all mine, Harry," Cassiopeia told him. She turned to Hermione. "We should go before everyone notices who our guest is, and mobs us."

"Yes, Mother," Hermione agreed and took her mother's hand.

Cassiopeia held out her other hand to Harry, who stared at it for a moment before taking it. The Dursleys had never touched him if they could avoid it. No one ever _willingly_ touched him.

"Now hold on," Cassiopeia commanded. "We'll have to Apparate, and I'm going to Side-Along both of you with me to Blackwell Estate." She paused and looked down at Harry with a small frown. "I've been told that it can be slightly unsettling, but eventually you'll get used to it."

The Dursleys took Dudley to carnivals, and he had always taken great pleasure in describing them loudly, and in great detail, in Harry's hearing. The 'Side-Along' thing that Cassiopeia did reminded him a great deal of Dudley's stories. He felt as though he'd been picked up, shaken about, and then tossed to the ground again.

When they landed, he weaved slightly, and his stomach roiled unpleasantly. He looked to Hermione, and she appeared slightly green. She clapped her hand over her mouth and hurried to some near-by bushes where he could hear her retching.

"I'm sorry about that," Cassiopeia told him with a sigh. "It just seemed like the easiest, fastest way to get you both out of there. I've got some anti-nausea potion if you need it."

"Yes, please," Harry replied. Cassiopeia dug through her bag, and handed him a small vial. It tasted of peppermint, and he immediately felt much better. "Thank you."

"Of course," Cassiopeia murmured. She handed another vial to Hermione as soon as she staggered back to them.

"Thank you, Mother," Hermione whispered, and then she drank her vial.

Harry turned to face the house he would be staying in for the winter holidays. It was a huge building, but he couldn't see much of it as it was covered in snow. It looked like the cover of a Christmas card.

"Wow," Harry murmured.

"Welcome to Blackwell, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully. She tugged on his hand. "Come on, I'll show you to your rooms. Mother put you right next to me."

The inside reminded Harry of Hogwarts, and when Hermione pushed open the door to his room, that perception grew even stronger. His Great-Aunt had decorated the room in Gryffindor colors for him—warm crimson and gold curtains, bedding and carpet. His four-poster bed had little carved lion heads for finials.

"Wow," he whispered. "This is… this is too much, Hermione. I don't need all this."

Hermione frowned at him. "This is just a guest bedroom, Harry. Here, come see my room."

Next door was basically a copy of his room, but everything was done in dark green and cool silver, with snakes carved in spirals around Hermione's bed posts. He stared at her room in stunned disbelief.

"Harry… this really isn't anything special," Hermione said slowly with a worried frown. "And Mother decorated it with magic."

"It's just a huge change from a cupboard under the stairs," he muttered under his breath.

The brief flash of horror that crossed Hermione's face told him that perhaps he hadn't said that quietly enough, but she didn't bring it up. Instead, she led him back downstairs and to what she called 'the little parlour', which seemed to be a huge room to him. All over the walls were portraits of witches and wizards who were watching him curiously.

"Ah, Harry," Cassiopeia called to him. She was holding a large book in her hands. "Here, sit down."

Once he was sitting down, she placed the book in his lap.

"What's this?" He asked curiously.

"This is a photo album," Cassiopeia explained. "I don't have any portraits of your mother and father; the best that I can do for them are photos. I do, however, have a portrait of your grandfather and grandmother Potter."

"You do?" Harry looked up at her in surprise.

Cassiopeia pointed to a large portrait that hung on the wall opposite them. A man with Harry's wild, unkempt hair, and a woman who looked a bit like a younger Cassiopeia waved cheerfully at him and smiled. Harry's heart caught in his throat and he stared back at them hungrily.

"Now, this is Dorea, your grandmother, holding your father when he was a baby," Cassiopeia explained as she opened the front page of the album.

For the next few hours, Harry was entranced. There were so many pictures, and all of them were _his_ family. All of them smiled up at him with his hair and his chin and his nose. His mother was beautiful. She had lovely red hair, and a bright smile. His dad was next to her and the mischievous grin on his face made Harry wonder what sort of man he was. He turned the page, and there was his dad standing with his arm slung over the shoulders of a handsome, laughing boy.

"Who is this?" Harry asked curiously.

"That's cousin Sirius," Hermione said in a quiet, solemn voice.

Harry had the feeling that something _bad_ had happened to Sirius.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured.

"It's alright, Harry," Cassiopeia reassured him. "We're hoping to get all of that cleared up."

"Did cousin Arcturus get Sirius cleared?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"He's working on it," Cassiopeia assured her. "He has reinstated Sirius, as you asked, and he's pushing forward with the Wizengamot."

"Oh, Mother!" Hermione jumped up and ran to hug her mother again. Then she turned and hugged Harry tightly. "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

Harry froze when Hermione's arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. Then she'd released him and he could breathe again. He swallowed hard, and blinked rapidly. _This was what having a family was like_.

The days passed in an almost fairy-tale manner. Hermione dragged him to the kitchen and introduced him to house-elves, where he helped them and Hermione decorate Christmas biscuits. Cassiopeia and Hermione took him to visit his parents' graves.

They also took him to Longbottom Manor to see Neville and meet his Gran. She was a stern, older witch who frowned at him and then turned to exchange a meaningful look with Cassiopeia.

Neville dragged them outside where they spent the afternoon having snowball fights and sledding. By the time they came in, red-cheeked and shivering, the Longbottom house-elves had set out hot chocolate and freshly baked loaves of cinnamon bread. Harry devoured three, thick slices that were so hot they singed his fingers and burned his tongue.

"Having fun?" Cassiopeia asked as she came into the kitchen.

"Loads," Harry said cheerfully. After almost a week with Cassiopeia and Hermione, he no longer tensed whenever she entered the room.

Cassiopeia smiled at him and patted Hermione on the shoulder. "We'll have to go home in a bit," she warned them.

"Yes, Mother," Hermione said with a small nod.

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia," Harry echoed her with a grin.

Cassiopeia gave them a nod and then swept out of the kitchen.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Wake up, Harry, it's Christmas," Hermione called excitedly.

Harry groaned and then sat up, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. "Wha-?" He asked blearily.

"Come along," Hermione told him and tugged at his hand.

Catching her excitement, he put on his glasses and stumbled down the stairs after her. She ran to a set of doors that had been closed all week. When he'd asked what it was, Hermione had said it was the Great Parlour, but didn't elaborate. Cassiopeia was already standing by the doors and she hugged each of them.

"Happy Christmas, Harry. Happy Christmas, Hermione," Cassiopeia greeted each of them. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly.

With a wave of Cassiopeia's wand, the doors opened. A huge Christmas tree was the centerpiece of the room and it glittered with a thousand little lights. Beneath the tree was a small mountain of presents. Hermione took Harry's hand and dragged him to the tree.

"Merlin," Harry breathed.

"You sit there, Harry," Hermione ordered, pointing toward a small couch.

Harry was so stunned he sat exactly where she had directed. Soon a pile of presents grew around him.

"What's all this?" He asked in surprise.

"Those are all your presents," Hermione explained.

He stared at the presents and then stared up at Cassiopeia. "All of these?"

Cassiopeia nodded solemnly. "Of course, Harry."

There were new sets of pyjamas in red and gold, with slippers and a thick robe to match. There were also some new wizarding robes because, as Cassiopeia had pointed out gently, all he owned were Muggle clothes. There were books, and wizarding puzzles, and a fine-looking engraved box.

"That's a wizard chess set," Cassiopeia explained. "It belonged to your grandfather Charlus Potter. He wanted you to have it."

Harry reverently stroked the box and lifted the lid to look inside. The pieces were beautiful, and he replaced the lid gently.

When Harry opened his 'present' from the Dursleys, Cassiopeia and Hermione exchanged a grim look, but neither of them remarked upon it. When he opened the mystery gift, which turned out to be an invisibility cloak, Cassiopeia gasped and she looked angry.

"That is a Potter family heirloom," she raged. "That should have been yours ages ago! Where has it been? Who kept it?"

"I don't know," Harry whispered.

Cassiopeia shook her head. "I'm not angry at you, Harry. I'm angry that your family treasures were kept from you."

"It was probably safer than with the Dursleys," he muttered to himself. He didn't notice the furious look that flashed in Cassiopeia's eyes.

"Harry," she murmured as gently as she could. "How would you like to stay with us this summer?"

Harry stared at her. "Could I?" He asked hopefully.

Cassiopeia looked at Hermione and then nodded. "I will make it happen."

/\/\/\/\/\

That evening Cassiopeia watched fondly as Hermione and Harry stuffed themselves on roast pheasant, roast potatoes and gravy, mushy peas, rolls, sprouts, cranberry sauce and fruit salad. Harry had worn a bright, happy smile all day, and Cassiopeia felt at peace for the first time in a week.

"Aunt Cassiopeia?" Harry looked up at her suddenly, as though something had just occurred to him.

"Yes, Harry?" She tilted her head and waited.

"Have you ever heard of Nicholas Flamel?" He asked.

"The alchemist?" Cassiopeia blinked.

"I guess so?" Harry appeared uncertain.

Cassiopeia frowned in concentration. "Let's see, he discovered the secret to the Philosopher's Stone, and he partnered with Dumbledore at one point. What did you want to know about him?"

"The Philosopher's Stone?" The honest confusion on Harry's face only served to drive home how little he knew about their world.

"It's said to grant the owner eternal life," Cassiopeia explained with a shrug.

"Eternal life?" Harry's eyes grew round.

Cassiopeia shook her head at him. "Those sorts of things are never what they promise to be. Eternal life can be the worst curse imaginable," Cassiopeia told him firmly.

Harry nodded solemnly and turned back to his turkey. Cassiopeia watched him fondly for a moment. Hermione caught her eye and smiled at her. Cassiopeia smiled back. She wasn't given to superlatives such as 'the best Christmas ever', but Cassiopeia was happy to have Dorea's grandson and her own daughter in the house. Their laughter and excitement had filled the house, and she found herself smiling and laughing with them.


	5. Fragile Machinations

_**A/N:**_ _Several people have pointed out that, technically, the Weasleys are cousins of Harry's as well. (Cedrella Black was Dorea's cousin, which would make James Potter and Arthur Weasley second-cousins, which would make Harry Potter and Ron Weasley third-cousins.) This is true, but Cedrella Black was disowned for marrying Septimus Weasley. That's far enough back that Hermione might not be aware of the relationship, or Harry and Ron are such distant cousins that she might not really think about it. You have to remember that (in this AU world that I made up) Pollux, Cassiopeia and Dorea were all siblings, and that Draco, Hermione, and Harry all descend from them. [Pollux, Cassiopeia and Dorea_ _ **are**_ _siblings in Canon. Harry has never been officially confirmed as her grandson.]_

 _ **Deaths:**_ _So far, all the deaths I've written about have been canon. The impetus for Cassiopeia's radical decision to adopt Hermione was the combined deaths of Orion and Regulus in 1979. Walburga died in 1985. Pollux died in 1990. So it isn't that I'm on some mad killing spree. This is canon, people. Blame JKR._

 _ **Beta Adulation:**_ _Despite real life and a crazy-busy schedule, Auntie_L still found the time to beta this chapter. I love her so hard. She deserves a big cup of (beverage of choice) and huge hugs. I'm mentally sending them to her._

/\/\/\/\/\

"What do you think I should do?" Cassiopeia asked.

Griselda Marchbanks frowned and took a sip of her Firewhisky.

"You didn't see the boy," Augusta added with a dark frown. "He was thin, wearing what appeared to be hand-me-down clothes from someone far bigger than him, and every time Cassiopeia or I stepped in the room he grew tense; as though he were waiting for something to happen."

"I've been arguing with Dumbledore for eleven years, and it's gotten me nowhere," Cassiopeia added acerbically.

"What if the Muggles were gone?" Griselda asked with a thoughtful expression.

Cassiopeia blinked. _"Gone_? _"_

Despite her family's reputation, it hadn't occurred to Cassiopeia to kill the Dursleys—although by the time Christmas break had come to an end, she had thought about torturing them just a little. Still, the idea had merit.

"Well, no longer there," Griselda amended. "What if they moved away, and left no forwarding address? Dumbledore wouldn't have much of a choice then, now would he?"

"That's not a bad idea," Augusta said with a speculative gleam in her eyes. "If they moved to a foreign country, then Dumbledore definitely wouldn't want young Potter to live with them. He wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts—he'd have to go to the local magical school."

"What about Russia?" Griselda suggested.

Cassiopeia shook her head. "No, I doubt they speak Russian. It would have to be somewhere that spoke English."

"Canada?" Augusta offered. "I have a cousin there that might be able to keep an eye on them."

"Too close," Cassiopeia said with a shake of her head. "I need to lose the Dursleys but good. Maybe we could add in some memory altering charms so that they don't remember they've got a nephew."

"And change their surnames as well?" Griselda added with a nod. "Do a memory charm, find them a home and a job, move them away. That should work quite well."

"There is one other problem, as I understand it," Cassiopeia said grimly. "Dumbledore installed Arabella Figg in the neighborhood. Her job has been to watch over Harry, I believe, and report to Dumbledore."

"How in Merlin's name did you discover that?" Griselda demanded.

Cassiopeia scowled at Griselda. "I overheard Harry speaking to Hermione when they were making Christmas cookies. He told her that the only time he got sweets was when he went to Ms. Figg's house. Arabella is the only Figg I know that would be able to live in a Muggle neighborhood."

"Could it be a Muggle?" Augusta asked cautiously.

Cassiopeia shook her head. "No. She's breeding kneazles. Harry doesn't realize that's what they are, but from his descriptions… they're definitely kneazles, and it's definitely Arabella Figg."

"What should we do with her?" Augusta frowned. "If she knew about how that boy had been treated…"

"What could she have done?" Griselda snorted. "Written Dumbledore? I'm sure she has. I remember little Arabella. If only she'd had magic, she would've been a Hufflepuff for sure. It must kill her to see how that poor boy has been treated."

"We could do the same thing," Cassiopeia suggested. "Only we'll find her a nice little holiday home somewhere. Oh! I think we have a small holiday home somewhere in the Caribbean."

Griselda nodded. "That sounds nice. I think Arabella would like that."

"So Arabella's taken care of," Cassiopeia said with a decisive air. "That just leaves the Dursleys."

"What about Australia?" Augusta asked.

Cassiopeia nodded slowly. "Australia… it's perfect," she agreed.

It was impossible to do everything that needed to be done without actually visiting the Dursleys, as much as one might wish otherwise. In the end, Augusta and Griselda decided to accompany Cassiopeia, which was probably for the best. If Cassiopeia had gone by herself, it was entirely likely that she would have killed Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

Just in case, the three women had visited Arabella Figg first, and had quickly _Obliviated_ her, packed her home, moved her and all of her kneazles, and settled her into her new little holiday cottage under the name Artemesia Bellweather.

If Harry hadn't come and stayed for the Christmas holiday, if Cassiopeia hadn't seen for herself how starved the boy was for any scrap of family—no other 11 year old she knew would willingly sit and pore over family albums for hours on end with a happy smile—then she might not have noticed the glaring absence of Harry on the Dursley family's walls. There were no pictures. There were no school awards with Harry's name. He wasn't in any of the family photographs. There was nothing to indicate that Harry lived here at all.

"You are the aunt and uncle of Harry Potter, are you not?" Cassiopeia demanded. _Had she misunderstood Harry?_

Petunia's lip curled and Vernon flushed red.

"How dare you mention that… that _freak_ ," Vernon blustered.

Augusta made a choked noise somewhere behind Cassiopeia, and Griselda gasped.

"Right," Cassiopeia muttered. She grabbed her bag and dug through it. "Here we are."

"Is that _Veritaserum_?" Augusta asked.

"It will probably be the only way we get the truth," Cassiopeia muttered.

"Or what they believe to be the truth," Griselda murmured, a look of distaste on her face as she glanced around.

"That's true," Cassiopeia admitted, "but it might be enough for us to parse the rest."

The resulting interrogation was a joint effort by all three witches. Occasionally, either Griselda or Augusta would have to hold Cassiopeia back while the other witch would continue with the questions. By the time they were done, Cassiopeia was strongly leaning toward killing them.

"We can't kill them, Cassiopeia," Griselda protested. "It's much too messy. It would be far better for them to just disappear."

"Let's just do what we came to do," Augusta said her voice thick with disgust. She could barely stand to look at the Dursleys.

"Very well," Cassiopeia agreed. For Harry's sake, she would allow these execrable human beings to live. She raised her wand and pointed it at Vernon Dursley. " _Obliviate_.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Did you find anything out about Nicholas Flamel?" Ron asked Neville and Harry as soon as they had returned.

"Yes," Neville said excitedly.

Harry turned to look at Neville in surprise. "I did, too."

"What did you find out?" Neville asked.

"Well, Aunt Cassiopeia said that he was an alchemist, and that he created the Philosopher's Stone, which gives you eternal life. Then she said that living forever was a terrible curse, oh, and that Dumbledore was Flamel's partner," Harry blurted out.

Neville blinked. "I got nearly the same speech from my Gran, but she added that he was born in the 15th century, _and_ that the Philosopher's Stone can turn ordinary metals into gold."

"That must have been why we couldn't find him in _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardy_ ," Ron grumbled.

"Probably," Harry agreed.

"But it's no wonder that Snape would be after it," Neville muttered. "Gold and eternal life would be hard for people to resist."

/\/\/\/\/\

One of the perks of having family was that Harry now received packages and letters just like everyone else. Aunt Cassiopeia wrote to him once a week, but Hermione had warned him that if her mother was in the middle of a project she might forget to send him a letter. Surprisingly enough, Neville's Gran had sent him several packages of cinnamon bread with a short note about the house-elves being pleased that he had appreciated their efforts. Every time he received a letter, or a package, he felt a strange, happy lightness bubble up inside of him.

The other change since his Christmas holiday was that Draco Malfoy was acting a lot nicer. Harry wasn't an idiot—he had noticed the dark glares and the grim stares that Malfoy had sent his way. Neville had tried to explain the situation.

"Draco has always thought of Hermione as his," Neville told him one day after several pointed barbs and a lot of glaring.

"His? What, like he wants to date her?" Harry asked, gob-smacked. "We're only eleven… isn't that a little young to be dating?"

"Er… no, he doesn't want to date her," Neville protested. "Wizards don't really date. Well, not pureblood wizards, anyway. And for us, eleven isn't all that young to think about who you're going to marry."

"So Malfoy wants to _marry_ her?" Harry's voice rose and he stared at Neville with wide eyes.

"What? No! He's her cousin. They've practically been raised together, almost like siblings," Neville explained with faint expression of distaste. He sighed and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "It started with me. Gran and Hermione's mother are really close, and we played together all the time. I think Draco thought I was going to take Hermione away from him. He was always rubbing my face in the fact that Hermione was _his_ cousin, not mine."

"And I'm her cousin, too," Harry said with a thoughtful expression.

"Exactly," Neville agreed. "In Draco's mind, you have an equal claim to Hermione. In addition to that, Aunt Cassiopeia and Hermione have been worried about you for years."

"They have?" Harry turned to look at Neville in surprise.

Neville nodded. "Aunt Cassiopeia has been badgering Headmaster Dumbledore for information about you every year since… since your parents were killed. She was really close with her sister, and she doted on your dad. Hermione used to go visit you when you were a baby."

"I saw a picture," Harry admitted quietly. "It was a picture of me and Hermione, and my grandfather."

"Exactly," Neville said. "He finds you threatening. He thinks that now that Hermione's got you, she won't spend any time with him."

"That's ridiculous," Harry protested.

"Is it?" Neville asked. "Aunt Cassiopeia wants you to live with her and Hermione. If she had her way from the beginning, you basically would have been Hermione's brother."

"I don't think that Hermione would do that," Harry protested. "She thinks family is the most important thing there is."

"Of course she wouldn't," Neville agreed. "She loves Draco—she just wants to smack him half the time."

/\/\/\/\/\

"If it isn't the little Mudblood and her Squib boyfriend," Graham Montague sneered as Hermione and Neville left the library. "I was hoping to run into you. I need to practice my hexes."

Montague was leaning against the wall, twirling his wand, and Terence Higgs was standing next to him with an amused smirk.

"How dare you," Neville cried angrily.

"I would have thought that you had learned your lesson," Hermione snapped, glaring at Montague.

"If anyone will be giving out lessons, it will be me," Montague retorted and cast a leglocker curse on Neville. " _Locomotor Mortis_!"

Furious, Hermione pointed her wand at Montague and cast a nasty boils hex. Then she turned to Terence Higgs, who held up his hands and backed up several paces. Finally, she turned to Neville and cast the counter-curse on him.

"Come on, Neville," she muttered, taking his arm and helping to his feet.

After the run-in with Montague, Hermione insisted on seeing Neville back to the Gryffindor Common Room. She had been grimly silent, her face a cool, impersonal mask.

"Hermione?" Neville asked in a soft voice.

Hermione shook herself and gave him a faint smile. "Yes, Neville?"

"When you do… whatever it is you're going to do… let me help?" Neville asked.

Hermione's faint smile morphed into a smirk. "Of course."

Returning Neville to the Gryffindor dormitories was supposed to be quick and simple, but they ran into Harry on his way back to the dormitory. His face was pale and set, and Hermione immediately hurried forward.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked anxiously.

"Snape's refereeing the next Quidditch match," Harry whispered.

Hermione gasped. While she didn't approve of Harry not using her Head of House's proper title… she couldn't blame him. Professor Snape appeared to be distressingly biased when it came to her cousin. Hermione was trying to be patient—to determine if there was a reason for Professor Snape to behave this way—but it was difficult.

"Don't play," she begged him. "Pretend to break your leg."

Harry shook his head. "I can't do that Hermione. Gryffindor hasn't got a reserve Seeker. If I don't play, the team would have to withdraw."

"But—," Hermione bit her lip.

"It'll be okay, Hermione. C'mon Neville. I have to tell Ron. He's going to go spare," Harry said with a heavy sigh.

/\/\/\/\/\

While Hermione's relationship with Harry had developed wonderfully over Christmas break, her relationship with his friend Ronald Weasley was just as stilted and prickly as it had been on the train. Still, she couldn't be with Harry all the time, and Weasley was willing to help her protect Harry from Professor Snape, so she was willing to put up with his attitude. Neville had wanted to help, too, and all three of them had brought their wands to the match.

Weasley and Neville had escorted Hermione to the Gryffindor changing rooms so that she could hug Harry and wish him good luck. Then they had dragged Hermione to the Gryffindor section of the stands.

"Remember, it's _Locomotor Mortis_ ," Hermione murmured, her eyes fixed on the Quidditch pitch.

"I _know_ ," Weasley snapped. "Don't nag."

"You watch your tone, Weasley," Draco said coolly. "Perhaps that's the way your family treats gentle-witches, but around _my_ cousin you'll keep a civil tongue in your head."

"Draco," Hermione greeted her cousin with a distracted smile. "What are you doing over here?"

"One might ask you the same thing, Hermione," Draco drawled. His eyes swept the pitch, and then he turned back to Weasley and Neville. "I decided to come over here and make sure that you were being taken care of properly."

Neville snorted. "Right. She's safer here than she is with your House. That Montague is a menace, and he's got it in for her."

The conversation swirled around Hermione, but she wasn't paying attention to it. Hermione had all of her fingers crossed and was clutching them in her lap, her eyes fixed on Harry, who was flying in tight circles, constantly scanning the sky for the snitch. Catching the Snitch as quickly as possible was Gryffindor's best bet, especially with Professor Snape refereeing.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy—"

"Weasley!" Hermione cried. "Harry—"

"What? Where?" Weasley demanded.

Harry had just gone into a spectacularly steep dive, and Hermione _eeped,_ her hands pressed to her mouth as she watched her cousin. The crowd went wild around them, gasping and cheering as Harry sped toward the ground.

There was no denying that Harry was a natural on a broom—his grace and natural talent in the air were almost breathtaking. Mother had watched him fly over the holiday, and she had murmured that it was like watching Uncle Charlus fly.

" _That man was poetry in the air," Cassiopeia had recalled fondly. "It's one of the reasons that Dorea first noticed him. Charlus Potter was an incredible Quidditch player, too."_

Despite all of that, Hermione was still frightened. She didn't dare take her eyes off of her cousin, not even for a second. She jumped up so that she was standing on her seat—it let her see Harry better. When he held up a hand triumphantly, the Snitch clutched tightly, Hermione had shrieked in her excitement and jumped up and down on the seat.

 _He'd caught it_!

"Weasley! Neville, Draco!" Hermione called. "Did you see? Harry's caught the Snitch! He did it!"

After spontaneously hugging Parvati Patil, a witch that she recognized from dancing class, she turned to look for Weasley, Neville and Draco. Draco was sprawled on the ground with Weasley standing over him, his chest heaving. Draco's left eye was rapidly swelling shut. Rage swept through Hermione at the sight of her cousin hurt and injured.

Then she turned to find Neville and discovered that he was completely unconscious with Crabbe and Goyle standing over him with identical smug smirks. Hermione gripped her wand tightly in her hand and quickly cast the Leg-Locker Curse on Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle. She hurried forward and fell to her knees next to Draco.

"Merlin," she muttered worriedly. "Are you alright Draco? Can you hear me?"

Draco groaned.

"It'll be okay," Hermione told him firmly. "Hold on, I'm going to go fetch Madam Pomfrey."

/\/\/\/\/\

Poppy Pomfrey was a skilled Healer with years of training. She had had difficult patients before, and she had dealt with distraught family before, but the Black girl was driving her up the wall. The little witch had come in with an unconscious Neville Longbottom and a slightly wounded Draco Malfoy and had refused to leave. She had insisted on dabbing the bruise paste on Malfoy herself… after thoroughly grilling Pomfrey on where she had obtained it, who had brewed it, etc. Then the witch had fussed over Malfoy so much that Pomfrey wanted to roll her eyes.

The Malfoy boy, for his part, was eating up the attention, and did absolutely nothing to dissuade the girl. In fact, Poppy was positive the boy was faking half of the groans he was emitting. Every now and then Black would pace over and watch Longbottom for a bit, worry shining in her eyes.

"He'll be alright, won't he?" Black worried aloud.

"Mr. Longbottom will be fine," Poppy assured her. "He was just Stunned. He'll probably wake up in a couple hours. Why don't you help Mr. Malfoy back to the Slytherin dormitory? If you would like to check on Mr. Longbottom after dinner, you are welcome to come and visit him here."

"I suppose," Black murmured, her eyes fixed on the still form of Longbottom in his hospital bed.

"Miss Black, I haven't lost a patient yet," Poppy said tartly.

/\/\/\/\/\

"What do mean, 'Hagrid's got a dragon'?" Hermione demanded.

Draco shrugged. "I heard Weasley, Potter, and Longbottom talking."

"You do realize that Harry is _your_ cousin as well, don't you?" Hermione pointed out with a scowl.

"Of course I realize that he's my damned cousin," Draco snapped. "If he wasn't, I wouldn't care that he's probably going to get poisoned by a dragon bite, or burnt alive in Hagrid's _wooden house_."

"What should we do?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Should we tell someone? Professor McGonagall, maybe? She's their Head of House."

"Oh, yes, that would go over swimmingly," Draco muttered and rolled his eyes. "She just loves us, and I'm sure she'd believe whatever we said."

Hermione sighed. "That's true," she admitted.

"We could tell Professor Snape," Draco offered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco. "Because _our_ Head of House, who for whatever reason, hates our cousin with an intensity that is, frankly, deeply disturbing, will automatically look out for Harry's best interests, I'm sure."

"Professor Snape wouldn't kill Harry," Draco protested indignantly. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Hermione.

"He was _cursing_ Harry's broom, Draco," Hermione shot back.

"Fine. What about one of the other Heads?" Draco sighed, letting his head fall back on the couch.

"What if we let someone overhear us?" Hermione said slowly.

"Like who?" Draco demanded.

"I don't know… maybe Professor Sprout. She's a Hufflepuff. They believe in what's right and what's fair. She would want to help the boys, but she wouldn't want to punish them for helping a friend," Hermione explained.

"I suppose," Draco agreed.

The next day, during Herbology, Draco and Hermione claimed one another as partners with a celerity that had everyone around them blinking in surprise. The two cousins worked on their project industriously, but kept one eye out for Professor Sprout. They made sure to whisper loudly as soon as she came anywhere near them.

"Really? But isn't that dangerous?" Hermione hissed as loudly as she dared.

Blaise Zabini turned to stare at her.

"Oh definitely," Draco whispered loudly. "I'm really worried about Hagrid."

Theo Nott's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Do you think the fire might stretch to the Forbidden Forest? What about the Centaur herd and the unicorns?" Hermione added.

Millicent kicked Hermione under the table.

"Have you both gone mental?" Millicent asked in a quiet voice once Professor Sprout had passed them with a worried look on her face.

"What? No. Now hush, she's coming back," Hermione muttered.

"And then there are those boys that keeping sneaking down to Hagrid's hut," Draco continued in his loud whisper. "What if one of them gets hurt?"

Blaise choked on air, and Theo gave him several firm swats on the back.

"Mr. Malfoy, what _are_ you whispering about?" Professor Sprout finally demanded.

Draco widened his eyes and tried to look as innocent as possible. Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud and spoiling his efforts.

"Nothing, Professor Sprout," Draco told her with a solemn expression.

"Miss Black?" Professor Sprout demanded.

Hermione tossed her head and put her chin in the air.

"It's a family matter, Professor Sprout," Hermione said in a stilted, formal voice.

Professor Sprout frowned, looking between Draco and Hermione.

"Then you can discuss it during your free time," Professor Sprout told them both.

"Yes Professor," they chorused.

Millicent, who was standing out of Professor Sprout's line-of-sight, stared at Draco and Hermione with an expression of disbelief. Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be confused, Pansy and Daphne were snickering into their hands, and Tracy was watching Blaise and Theo with concern.

/\/\/\/\/\

When the entire school was buzzing about the fact that Hagrid had been keeping a dragon in his hut, and that the dragon had been secretly smuggled out in the dead of night, the First Year Slytherins all turned to look at Hermione and Draco, who were calmly eating their breakfast.

"You knew," Theo said, watching them.

"Knew what?" Draco asked.

"About Hagrid, the dragon, all of it," Theo muttered.

" _I'm so worried about Hagrid,"_ Blaise mimicked Draco.

Draco frowned at Blaise. "I didn't sound like that," he protested.

"You did," Millicent told him bluntly. She turned to Hermione and frowned. "Why?"

Hermione ignored them and continued to eat, taking dainty bites and chewing thoroughly.

"The only things that Hermione cares about, aside from getting an Outstanding in every class, are family and Neville Longbottom," Millicent added. She frowned to herself. "That's it, isn't it?"

"I really don't know what you mean, Millicent," Hermione said coolly. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"Potter likes Hagrid," Theo offered quietly. "I've seen him go to his hut, usually with Weasley and Longbottom in tow."

"That was some of the worst acting I've ever seen," Daphne observed and shook her head. "The next time you need help with something like that, come see me and Pansy."

"Thank Merlin you chose Professor Sprout," Pansy said. "Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall would never have bought that load of steaming—"

"Pansy!" Millicent hissed.

"Well they wouldn't have," Pansy retorted.

/\/\/\/\/\

At Hogwarts, owls drew no notice at all. Hermione was so used to receiving letters and packages from her mother, Cousin Narcissa, and even Augusta Longbottom that one more didn't give her any cause for alarm. Even the fact that this owl, so dark it was almost black, didn't arouse any suspicion within her. The letter was real vellum instead of parchment, thick and creamy with a weight to it that screamed money and power. Curious, Hermione opened it.

As she scanned the contents of the letter, all the blood drained from her face.

"Hermione? What's wrong," Draco asked worriedly.

"It's Cousin Arcturus," Hermione whispered.

"What about him?" Draco pressed.

Hermione looked up, and her face was pale and set, her mouth set into grim lines.

"He died," Hermione said quietly.

"Died?" Draco echoed in surprise

"I only saw him before school started. He wasn't feeling well over Christmas, so we didn't visit him," Hermione murmured with a small frown. "I need to turn this in to Professor Snape. It's a request for me to be able to attend the funeral and the reading of his will."

"Are you the House Regent now?" Draco asked.

Hermione sighed. "It's complicated. Cousin Arcturus reinstated Cousin Sirius, and, technically, he would be the Patriarch, except he's still in Azkaban. There is always the possibility that Sirius will reject the House seat. I think that Cousin Arcturus probably made some provisions, and that's why I've been summoned."

"When will Aunt Cassiopeia come for you?" Draco asked quietly.

"Friday," Hermione murmured as she scanned the letter a second time.

"Mother and Father will probably send me a letter tomorrow," Draco murmured. His gaze wandered over the Great Hall, and he frowned. "What about Harry?"

"A parent or guardian has to submit a family emergency request." Hermione bit her lip. "Mother will probably do her best, but Dumbledore will try to block her just as he has for the past eleven years."

/\/\/\/\/\

Most students had few occasions to ever see the Headmaster's office, but Cassiopeia had been a Prefect, and then Head Girl, so she had been in Headmaster Dippet's office several times. Dumbledore had apparently redecorated. She swept a glance about the office before she sat down across from Dumbledore.

"Arcturus has passed away." Cassiopeia folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the portrait of her grandfather. Phineas Nigellus nodded gravely.

"This is indeed distressing news," Dumbledore murmured. "I assume that you will need to take young Miss Black home to deal with family matters?"

Cassiopeia inclined her head in a small nod. She must tread carefully here. It was no good to win this small battle, but lose the war. Arabella's home, once fumigated and steam-cleaned, and finally magically cleaned to remove the lingering kneazle odours, had sold quickly. The Dursley home, reduced to a ridiculously low amount, had sold and cleared through escrow. The new families had already moved in. Just a little bit longer… just a bit more push in all the right places… and Harry would be with her and Hermione. It was much too late in the game to muck it up now.

"I had also thought to take Harry to Arcturus' funeral," Cassiopeia said coolly. "It could prove beneficial to the boy to be seen upholding our traditions and customs."

That was strictly true, and overtly Slytherin enough for Dumbledore to look only at the surface. He gazed at her with a solemn expression. She supposed that he was going for 'I'm deeply sympathetic to your view, but, sadly, I must disagree.'

"Miss Black, I understand your interest in Mr Potter's future, and I laud your dedication to family, but I'm afraid I must deny your request. I know that you were able to receive permission for Mr Potter to spend Christmas holiday at your home, but there has been no reply to your current request," Dumbledore explained with a regretful frown.

 _Of course there hasn't been a reply_. Cassiopeia frowned at Dumbledore.

"The death of a Patriarch is a serious matter. Harry, as the future Patriarch of the Potter family, should be there to pay his respects," Cassiopeia reminded him with a frown. "Just as you will be there to pay your respects as the Patriarch of the Dumbledore family."

Dumbledore spread his hands wide and gave her a disarming smile. "But if Harry's guardians do not reply to your request, I'm afraid my hands are tied."

"Have you tried contacting them, telling them how important this is in our world?" Cassiopeia demanded.

"My dear Miss Black," Dumbledore attempted to soothe her. "I assure you that I, too, have sent a number of owls."

 _No, then_. This might just work.

"I see," Cassiopeia replied. She glared at her grandfather who was scowling at Dumbledore. She stood up. "I'm afraid I've taken up enough of your time. I'll just collect Hermione."

"Of course, Miss Black," Dumbledore murmured.

/\/\/\/\/\

"That insufferable wizard," Cassiopeia muttered under her breath as she marched toward Snape's office.

"Who, Mother?" Hermione asked as she hurried to keep pace with her mother.

"Not now," Cassiopeia said in a low voice. "Later. We'll be discussing this later."

"Yes, Mother," Hermione murmured.

They came to a halt in front of Snape's door, and Cassiopeia rapped on it smartly.

"Mistress Black," Snape said in surprise when he opened the door. "How may I assist you?"

"Master Snape," Cassiopeia nodded politely to him. "Might we use your Floo? Arcturus Black has died. I have spoken with the Headmaster, and he knows that Hermione needs to come home for a few days."

"Of course," Snape murmured. He opened the door wider and moved to the side. "My sympathies to your family."

"Yes, thank you," Cassiopeia replied. "Come along, Hermione. We have much to do."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Hermione murmured and curtseyed.

Once they were through the Floo, Mother had raged for a solid hour about Dumbledore's insufferable high-handedness. Hermione had wisely remained silent.

The shock of Arcturus' death was still with her, and Hermione wasn't sure what she should be thinking or feeling. He had been her Patriarch, but he had also been almost like a grandfather to her. He had always been proud of her accomplishments, and he encouraged her to improve. Pureblood families were stiffly formal, but Arcturus had never reprimanded her when she had spontaneously hugged him.

Suddenly, a horrible, awful thought struck Hermione.

"Mother?" Hermione blurted out.

Cassiopeia paused mid-rant to look at her daughter. Hermione's face had gone pale and she was visibly distressed.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Cousin Sirius," she asked and then flushed. Surely it was bad form to bring up such a matter when her Cousin Arcturus was barely cold.

"He won't be able to go to Arcturus' services, Hermione," Cassiopeia told her gently.

"I understand that," Hermione agreed. "No, I mean, his case."

Cassiopeia blinked and then she frowned. "That's true," she muttered to herself. "Sirius' case is now pending before the Wizengamot."

"What's going to happen?" Hermione worried aloud.

Cassiopeia frowned. "Well, we'll speak to Cygnus. I know that Arcturus has talked to him about this before."

"When does his case come before the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"June," Cassiopeia sighed.

"Why is it taking so long," Hermione protested.

"Several factors," Cassiopeia explained. "Firstly, if Sirius is proven innocent of the crimes of which he is accused, it could prove potentially embarrassing to several of members of the Ministry of Magic. Secondly, many people found it only too easy to accuse Sirius because of his family. Thirdly, the idiot boy supposedly confessed when they caught up to him."

"He _confessed?"_ Hermione whispered. She hadn't heard that bit before.

"Several witnesses report him laughing and saying 'I killed James and Lily'," Cassiopeia admitted.

Hermione frowned at that. "But you said–,"

Cassiopeia interrupted her. "I know what I said, and I stand by what I said. The boy was no Death Eater. If he had been, Walburga would never have disowned him."

"Then what did he mean?" Hermione asked.

"We won't know until the trial," Cassiopeia replied. She sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Go find Beaker and get ready. We have a long few days in front of us."

/\/\/\/\/\

Returning to Hogwarts a week later was a relief for Hermione. They had spent almost the entire time with a team of lawyers and Cousin Cygnus poring over the future of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Arcturus had made specific provisions for every possible contingency. Her head ached, but she knew more than she had ever thought possible about the minutiae of House laws.

Both Cassiopeia and Hermione came back through Professor Snape's Floo, only to find the entire school in an uproar. It didn't take long to discover that Harry, Neville, and Ronald Weasley had managed to put their lives in mortal peril to get hold of Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone _and_ confront Professor Quirrell, who was somehow possessed by Voldemort.

"Voldemort?" Cassiopeia repeated in a deadly calm voice that had Hermione subtly edging away from her mother. "I beg your pardon; did you say that my great-nephew was allowed to go frolicking through the castle to meet up with _Voldemort_?"

Professor Snape scowled at Cassiopeia. "No one _allowed_ him to do anything. Potter was out after curfew—I'm still not certain how he managed to do that and not get caught."

Cassiopeia's lips pressed into a thin line.

"But he's well?" Hermione asked with an anxious expression. "He took no hurt?"

"Regrettably, the boy is fine," Snape growled. "Perhaps if he had, he would have had some sense knocked into him."

"I see," Cassiopeia muttered with a frown. She turned to glance at her daughter. "I will take care of this."

"I understand, Mother," Hermione replied quietly.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Griselda, I need your help," Cassiopeia announced as soon as she stepped through the Floo. She turned to Augusta. "Yours too, Augusta."

"What's happened?" Griselda demanded. "You look as though you're ready to kill someone."

"I am," Cassiopeia growled. She gave a brief rundown of what had happened when Cassiopeia had tried to have Harry attend Arcturus' funeral, and what Harry had done while they had been gone.

"We need to change guardianship immediately," Griselda decided. "That's the only way that you'll have the power or the authority to do anything."

"I know," Cassiopeia agreed. "That's why I need you and Augusta. You both have contacts in the Ministry. Who will we need, do you think? What will we have to do to make him my ward?"

"Well… they're not much use for anything else, but what about the Daily Prophet?" Augusta suggested slowly.

"What about them?" Cassiopeia countered.

"You're playing a deep game, are you not?" Augusta asked pointedly. "You don't want Dumbledore to find out that you've been pulling the strings. What if the Daily Prophet did an exposé on Harry's supposed guardians?"

"Why would they do an exposé on Harry's guardians?" Cassiopeia demanded.

"When his guardians don't show up, make sure that you wait with Harry. Do it as publicly as possible—someone's bound to see and rumors will start. Take him home with you as publicly as possible. Make sure that you complain about his guardians. Again, someone is bound to see you. Write a letter to his guardians through a certified owl. Contact the Ministry and complain about Harry being abandoned at the train platform," Augusta ticked the items off on her hand. "There are usually reporters at the platform for the usual feel-good human interest story about school being out for summer. You will be far more interesting and exciting to them."

"And when the reporters check, you will have done everything that a concerned, conscientious family member would have done," Griselda added with a smirk. "Oh, that's brilliant Augusta."

"After the exposé, the Ministry will be forced to investigate," Cassiopeia said with a pleased smile. "And Harry will already be with me."

"Exactly," Augusta pointed out. "You already have multiple petitions in at the Ministry for custody of Harry."

"This might just work," Cassiopeia said with a laugh.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Now where are your guardians, Harry?" Cassiopeia asked in a clear, carrying voice. "I've written to them several times about you coming to see us for the summer, and they haven't returned any of my owls."

Harry looked around with a frown. He didn't see Vernon or Petunia anywhere.

"I don't see them," he admitted.

"That's fine," Cassiopeia said firmly. "We'll wait with you. I wouldn't dream of leaving my sister's grandson alone."

There was a decorative bench where Cassiopeia sat down and waited calmly. Harry glanced at Hermione who shrugged and sat down next to her mother. At last, even the stragglers had gone. All that was left was a slender, odd-looking fellow who was lurking near the gate clutching a camera.

"I don't understand," Harry muttered. He was torn between being elated that the Dursleys _hadn't_ come, and feeling somewhat forgotten.

At least Hermione and Aunt Cassiopeia hadn't forgotten him. They had stayed with him the entire time, and the stern look on her face had kept admirers at bay.

"I don't understand, either," Cassiopeia spoke again in that clear, carrying voice. "What kind of guardians would leave a defenceless child alone at a train station? I am certainly not abandoning you here. You shall come home with us. I will write to your aunt and uncle _again_ and let them know where you are. Then I shall write a strongly worded letter to the Ministry."

Hermione and Harry followed Cassiopeia over to the now-empty public Floo.

"Let's go home," Cassiopeia muttered to the two of them.

 _ **A/N:**_ _I slightly shifted Arcturus' Canon death. He is supposed to have died in 1991, but it doesn't give an exact date. So I have him dying a few months later._


	6. Unexpected Assistance

_A/N: I began this story well before Fleamontgate, and I have absolutely no plan to change everything at this date, especially since part of my plot hinges on the fact that Harry Potter is the grandson of Cassiopeia's little sister. I have adopted ShayaLonnie's headcanon, wherein Fleamont and Euphemia both absolutely detested their first names, and met and bonded over this at Hogwarts. They fell in love, married, and promised to only call one another by their middle names: Charlus and Dorea._

 _Beta Love: Auntie_L is truly amazing. A huge thank you to her for all of her help._

/\/\/\/\/\

No one had ever accused Cassiopeia Black of stupidity. After her very public upset at Harry's apparent abandonment at the train station, she immediately filed for guardianship of her great-nephew with the Ministry of Magic. With Augusta's and Griselda's help, she made sure that her efforts went unreported to Dumbledore.

As Chief Warlock, Dumbledore sat on any cases that were brought before the Wizengamot, and even if he did not hold a vote excepting in the case of a tie he still held enormous sway with the members. So Cassiopeia made sure that every petition she filed and every form she submitted would not need to come before the Wizengamot. Truthfully, most of Cassiopeia's efforts were automatically approved and sent on to the next department. The 'Black' name held a great deal of weight on its own, and Augusta and Griselda did their best at the Ministry to grease all the right wheels.

Once everything was set in motion, the _Prophet_ broke the news. The timing might have seemed a coincidence, but it was not. Cassiopeia had arranged everything carefully so that Dumbledore wouldn't have a chance.

 **Boy-Who-Lived Abandoned by Muggles!**

 **Harry Potter Left Alone at Train Station—Muggle Guardians Missing!**

The article went on in lurid detail to describe Harry's "drawn, anxious face" as he waited for the guardians that never arrived. It painted Cassiopeia and Hermione in glowing terms as "proper pureblood witches who were overcome with worry for the safety and welfare of their family member." Even better, the reporter had somehow managed to track down Harry's supposed residence and discovered that the Muggle family had left their home with no forwarding address.

The uproar from the public was almost overwhelming. The average witch or wizard on the street was absolutely outraged that the Boy-Who-Lived had been neglected by his Muggle family. Popular opinion was that Harry Potter belonged with a nice, upstanding magical family that would take care of him. Many seemed to think that Cassiopeia Black had already proved her suitability for that role.

"Miss Black, thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," Mafalda Hopkirk said with a polite nod.

"I am eager to straighten out my great-nephew's guardianship status," Cassiopeia replied smoothly and gave Ms. Hopkirk a smile.

"Of course; I understand completely," Ms. Hopkirk agreed. "I just need your signature here, here, and... here."

Quickly, Cassiopeia read through the documents and then wrote her signature at every spot that Ms. Hopkirk indicated.

"Is that everything?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Yes," Ms. Hopkirk said after she shuffled the papers into a neat pile and stamped each paper with a determination that was almost disturbing. "Harry Potter is officially your magical ward."

Once Dumbledore found out what had happened, he tried to protest, but it was too late and public opinion was such that he didn't dare risk fighting it too strenuously. Fortunately for Cassiopeia, he made the mistake of stopping her in the Ministry.

"I wish that you had come to me with your concerns, Miss Black," Dumbledore told her with an air of sadness and regret that made Cassiopeia want to punch him.

"I did tell you about my concerns, Mr. Dumbledore," she snapped, pitching her voice so that it could be easily overheard by the wizards and witches lingering nearby. "Every year for eleven years, I wrote to you, and every year you told me I was fretting over nothing, or it wasn't good for Harry's structure and schedule, or that Harry was perfectly fine with the Muggles; the very same Muggles that abandoned him. My great-nephew is underweight and malnourished, Mr. Dumbledore, and the healers are concerned about his diagnostic results."

Then Cassiopeia turned with a swirl of her robes and marched out of the Ministry. She waited until she made it home to let a smirk spread across her face.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Don't be ridiculous, Cassiopeia," Augusta snapped. "Of course the children will come to stay with us. You'll be far too busy with the trial, and they certainly can't be left alone while you're at the Ministry all day."

"They're my responsibility," Cassiopeia retorted.

"No one is saying that they aren't, Cassiopeia," Griselda said soothingly. "But you know that you don't want to take them anywhere near the Ministry, not with your guardianship so new. Let us help you."

"Fine," Cassiopeia muttered with ill grace. "I'll send Harry and Hermione to you during the day, but I want them home for dinner."

"Of course, Cassiopeia," Augusta agreed with a self-righteous smirk that made Cassiopeia long to smack her.

"You're worried about the trial, aren't you?" Griselda prodded gently.

"A little," Cassiopeia admitted. "The barrister has warned me that _veritaserum_ will not be admissible in court. If one truly believes that what one is saying is true, the _veritaserum_ will have no effect. In addition, memories are not admissible because they can be altered. I need _proof_ that Sirius didn't kill Peter Pettigrew."

"It would also help if you could find proof that he wasn't the Secret Keeper," Griselda added.

"Well, he isn't a Death Eater," Augusta observed thoughtfully. "That should help him a little."

"It will definitely help his case, but I'm afraid that it won't be enough," Cassiopeia sighed. She rubbed at her temples absently. "The meddling Dumbledore has all but destroyed the Black family, and I fear that he is by no means done. How can I face Hermione and Harry and tell them that I failed?"

"You won't fail," Augusta argued. "The trial hasn't even begun. Be patient and let's see what sort of information you can find. The Potter estate must have papers that have been kept for Harry. Can you access any of them? Does Sirius have any papers? Were there any other friends that Sirius consorted with that might have more information?"

"I'm not certain." A deep furrow appeared between Cassiopeia's brows as she considered Augusta's questions. "It's just rumour, of course, but I believe that Sirius visited with Andromeda regularly after she was disowned."

"Would Andromeda be willing to receive you?" Griselda asked cautiously.

"There's only one way to find out." Cassiopeia stood and straightened her robes. "I'll just have to write her and ask."

/\/\/\/\/\

During the summer, Hermione went back to her pre-Hogwarts schedule where she spent at least three days a week with her cousin Narcissa taking lessons in various subjects. Draco usually spent some of that time with his father receiving instruction in his duties as future Patriarch of the Malfoy family.

Narcissa stared at the small, messy-haired boy who was fidgeting nervously next to Hermione. Cassiopeia had given explicit instructions about how she expected Narcissa to treat Harry Potter, and Narcissa had found those instructions both curious and telling.

"I am Draco's mother," she began in a quiet, calm voice. "But I am also your cousin Narcissa. Hermione has been taking lessons with me since she was quite small, but Cassiopeia has asked me to include you as well. She is worried that there may be some gaps in your education."

"Because I lived with Muggles?" Harry asked with a worried frown.

"In part, yes. Hogwarts presupposes a certain level of education, and goes from there. Without that knowledge, you may struggle in some of your classes, especially as you move forward," Narcissa said smoothly.

"What's the other part?" Harry had stopped fidgeting and was listening to her intently.

Narcissa shared a conspiratorial smirk with her younger cousin Hermione, and then both witches turned to Harry.

"Mother has serious doubts about the level of instruction offered at Hogwarts," Hermione explained. "Most of it has to do with the fact that Dumbledore tried to keep us from you. She doesn't think he can do _anything_ right."

"Yes, well…," Narcissa coughed delicately. "It also has to do with the fact that the Defense Professor changes every year, the History Professor is a ghost who appears to be obsessed with the Goblin Wars, and the Muggle Studies course was outdated when the witch who _teaches_ the subject took it."

Harry stared at the both of them with wide eyes. "Oh."

It was impossible not to smile at Harry's serious face. She shared another look with Hermione.

"Let us begin," Narcissa said with an encouraging smile at Harry.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Mum? Mum, are you home?" Tonks called. She absently dusted the Floo ash off of her Auror robes and hurried through the hall into the kitchen.

Standing at the kitchen table and bent over a bubbling cauldron was her mother. Andromeda had her wildly curly hair pulled back into a serviceable plait. Cautiously, Tonks edged her way around the table being careful not to jostle it at all. Andromeda straightened up and cast a quick stasis charm on her cauldron before she turned to look at her daughter.

"What are you doing home so early, Nymphadora?" Andromeda demanded.

Tonks was so excited that she didn't even flinch at the hated name.

"Mum, they're demanding that Sirius Black be brought to trial," Tonks blurted out.

Andromeda went completely still. "Who is?"

"Them, Mum. The Black family. Well, Cassiopeia Black, anyway," Tonks explained rapidly. She shrugged. "She's really the only one left, isn't she?"

Tapping at the window drew the attention of both witches. A great, black, sooty owl was waiting impatiently for them to take the letter from his foot. Tonks watched her mum stare at the owl for several long minutes before she became too impatient, and removed the letter herself. It was fancy stationery, very expensive. The delicate script that decorated the outside screamed wealth and prestige.

"It's for you, Mum." Tonks handed the letter to her mother.

Andromeda stared at the letter as though it concealed some sort of dangerous poison. She set it down on the table and proceeded to scan the letter with every diagnostic spell she knew. When the letter proved to be innocuous, Andromeda carefully broke the green wax seal on the back. As she scanned the letter, her face grew pensive.

"What's the matter, Mum?" Tonks asked worriedly.

"It's them," Andromeda replied. She stared at the letter and then looked up at Tonks. "Aunt Cassiopeia wants to know if I'll come to tea."

"Will you?" Tonks pressed.

"Of course," Andromeda said. She looked at her daughter and frowned. "How else will I know what they want?"

"You are such a Slytherin, Mum," Tonks replied with a laugh. She kissed her mother on the cheek. "Want me to come with you?"

"I think that might be a good idea," Andromeda agreed.

/\/\/\/\/\

The small parlour at Blackwell was unusually chilly and formal. Cassiopeia was sitting with her back ram-rod straight, staring at the far wall. Narcissa was mutilating a delicate lace handkerchief and avoiding Hermione's eye. The youngest Black huffed indignantly.

"I don't understand," Hermione repeated with a deep frown. " _Who_ is Andromeda Tonks?"

"She... was my sister," Narcissa replied slowly, as if the words were being pulled from her reluctantly.

" _Was_?" Hermione's voice rose incredulously. She turned to glower at her mother. "Family is family. _You_ taught me that."

"Family is family," Cassiopeia agreed with a stiff nod. "But the Black family has a long history of pruning its vines, supposedly to ensure the health and vitality of the vine as a whole."

"Why was Andromeda Tonks _pruned_?" Hermione demanded.

Cassiopeia sighed heavily. "She had the extremely bad taste to fall in love with a Muggleborn."

All of the blood drained from Hermione's face and she became even paler than normal.

" _I'm_ Muggleborn," she whispered.

"I know that, Hermione. _I_ wasn't the one who disowned her. In fact, I didn't even know she had been disowned for over a year," Cassiopeia explained.

"Before you came, Aunt Cassiopeia had a very bad habit of disappearing into her lab for months at a time," Narcissa added with a fond smile for her younger cousin.

"Mother," Hermione began and stopped and bit her lip.

"Patience, Hermione," Cassiopeia reminded her.

"Missy Dromeda is here," Ajax announced. He paused and sniffed. "Missy Dromeda brought a guest."

"That's fine, Ajax," Cassiopeia assured him. "I imagine it is her daughter, Nymphadora. Please show them in."

A woman with thick, dark curls very similar to Hermione's walked into the room, followed by a slender witch who was wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt. Hermione and Harry both stared at her brilliant pink hair. Cassiopeia rose to her feet and moved forward.

"Andromeda, welcome to Blackwell. I'd like to thank you for coming," Cassiopeia said with a small nod. Then she turned and gestured to Hermione. "My daughter, Hermione." She paused and then gestured at Harry. "And, of course, my great-nephew Harry."

Andromeda nodded in greeting to each of them, her gaze sliding over Narcissa who was hovering behind the settee that Harry and Hermione had chosen.

"Thank you for the invitation, Cassiopeia. It's a pleasure to finally meet the scion of the House of Black," Andromeda replied in a cool voice. She gave Harry a slightly sad smile. "Mr. Potter, I met your parents several times. I was very sorry to hear of your loss."

Harry stared up at her and then looked up at Cassiopeia who nodded in encouragement.

"Thank you," Harry murmured.

"My daughter, Nymphadora," Andromeda gestured to the pink-haired witch who scowled at her mother.

"Tonks," the pink-haired witch said firmly.

"Miss Tonks," Cassiopeia greeted her. "If you'll both please take a seat."

"No… it's just Tonks." The pink haired witch scowled at everyone.

One dark brow rose and Cassiopeia turned to Andromeda who rolled her eyes.

"Very well. Would you care for tea?" Cassiopeia continued on.

"That's very kind of you," Andromeda murmured as she took a seat. "But perhaps it might be best to get to the point."

Cassiopeia sighed. "We believe that Sirius is innocent."

"Innocent?" Andromeda scoffed in surprise. "Or perhaps a convenient Patriarch?"

"Family is family," Hermione blurted out. She stared at Andromeda for a moment and then frowned at Cassiopeia. "Or at least that's what I was told."

"Later, Hermione," Cassiopeia bit out between clenched teeth.

"Later when?" Hermione demanded. She stood up and waved her hands anxiously. "Later, when I find out I've got more relatives I didn't even know about?"

"Hermione!" Cassiopeia snapped, her voice like a whip, making Hermione flinch. "Can you keep your own counsel or do you need to retire to your rooms?"

Hermione paled and sat back down next to Harry, folding her hands demurely in her lap. Andromeda turned to Cassiopeia with a knowing smirk.

"Are you sure she wasn't a Black _before_ you did the adoption ritual?" Andromeda asked. Cassiopeia's lips pressed into a thin line.

"There are days I wonder," Cassiopeia muttered.

"You really think that Sirius Black is innocent?" Just Tonks asked curiously.

"Mother says that he would never have kneeled before Voldemort," Hermione replied after a cautious glance at her mother.

"Sirius was too proud to bend for Walburga and Orion," Cassiopeia said with a shrug. "Walburga tried to disown him over it."

"Tried?" Andromeda blinked at that. "Didn't she?"

"Arcturus didn't sanction it," Cassiopeia explained with a little smile. "Walburga can destroy all the magical tapestries she wants to, but only the Patriarch can disown someone."

"I see." Andromeda's gaze flicked over to Narcissa, and then back to Cassiopeia. "And you assumed I would help?"

"I hoped that you would be willing to help," Cassiopeia amended. She tilted her head and looked Andromeda over. "If Sirius were the Patriarch, he would most likely reinstate you."

"You aren't worried about him disowning you or the scion?" Andromeda asked in surprise.

Narcissa snorted softly, but Andromeda ignored her completely, keeping her focus on Cassiopeia, who shook her head.

"Hermione has been pestering Arcturus to help Sirius for years. I'm sure there are records of his inquiries with the Wizengamot," Cassiopeia replied.

"Can you help?" Hermione asked with a worried frown. "Mother says that cousin Sirius' trial is stalling, and they may dismiss it without more evidence."

"I'm not sure what you think I can do," Andromeda protested, spreading her hands. "I wasn't a party to their plans… I wasn't there that night."

"Do you… do you have any papers that belonged to Sirius? Anything at all?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Maybe," Andromeda replied slowly, drawing the word out. "They used me as a waystation occasionally. I have a few letters somewhere."

"Thank you, Andromeda," Cassiopeia sighed.

The letters were sent between Sirius and his friends, and were very illuminating. There were several between Sirius and James discussing the Potter family's safety.

… _it isn't just me anymore, Sirius. It's Lily and Harry and that damn cat. I'm responsible for all of them making it out of this thing alive. I know you hate the idea, but I think Dumbledore's plan is our best option…_

… _don't be stupid, James. Of course I realize that you have to protect your family. Yes, even that damn cat. It isn't that I don't trust Dumbledore, it's just… you know that this charm requires a Caster and a Secret Keeper, right? That's… I don't know who I trust to keep you lot safe. Harry's my godson, mate. It's a lot of pressure, yeah?_

 _Thanks, Sirius. You don't even know how much I appreciate... Lily says to send her love, and that you're an arsehole for the…_

 _Look, James, if Moody is right and there is a spy in the Order… word about the charm is going to leak out. Everyone is going to look straight at me—and they're going to be right. This is too dangerous. We have to switch. I'll never forgive myself if I'm the reason something happens to you…_

As Cassiopeia read, she found herself agreeing with her great-nephew. Even she, locked in her labs and rarely coming up for air, knew of the closeness between James Potter and Sirius Black. Walburga Black wouldn't shut up about it to anyone who passed within a league after the boy had run off to the Potters. At one point, Walburga had tried to convince Arcturus to disown Sirius, but he had refused.

Finally, Cassiopeia found it—the evidence that she needed.

"Nimue's toes," she gasped as she read the letter over again to make certain she'd read it correctly.

"What is it, Mother?" Hermione hurried into the room.

Cassiopeia frowned at her daughter. "Have you been lurking in the hall this entire time?"

Hermione flushed. "No."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes. "You must learn to lie better, daughter, or you'll never survive the snake pit."

"I know. Daphne and Pansy lectured me about it last year," Hermione muttered with a distinct pout.

"They were right," Cassiopeia said.

"Mo—other," Hermione whinged. "What does it _say_?"

"They switched," Cassiopeia said with a smirk.

"Switched what?" Harry asked. He poked his head cautiously into the room and Cassiopeia sighed.

"Secret Keepers," Cassiopeia explained.

Harry frowned. "Who was it?"

"According to this?" Cassiopeia held up the letter in her hand. "Sirius specifically tells James not to use Remus. His frequent absences made Sirius doubt his trustworthiness." Cassiopeia paused and frowned at the letter. "I understand Sirius' reasoning, but obviously their choice was the wrong one."

"Petter Pettigrew," Hermione said softly. "The wizard who died?"

"There is that," Cassiopeia admitted with a sigh. "He's considered a hero of the war—he was awarded the Order of Merlin posthumously, and gave it to his mother in some ridiculous ceremony that was plastered all over the Daily Prophet's front pages. It will be difficult to convince the Wizengamot of his guilt."

"Oh." Harry's thin shoulders slumped.

"Mother said it was difficult. She didn't say it wasn't doable," Hermione said firmly.

"Hermione is correct," Cassiopeia agreed. "This letter _is_ admissible evidence. If we couple it with Sirius' lack of a Dark Mark… it might be enough to sway a majority of the Wizengamot." She sighed and shook her head. "I would prefer it if we had incontrovertible proof… something that they couldn't twist around, but I suppose we'll have to be satisfied with what we have."

The brilliant smile that stretched over Harry's small face, and the answering smile on Hermione's face, made it all worth it to Cassiopeia.

/\/\/\/\/\

 _July 28, 1992_

 _Marchbanks Manor_

The pre-trial court date was set for Harry's birthday. Despite Cassiopeia's money and social status, she hadn't been able to get the date changed, and even Augusta and Griselda weren't able to help.

"It's odd, is what it is," Griselda fussed. August nodded in agreement.

"Normally, anyone can file a request for a change in date," Augusta added.

"It's Dumbledore," Cassiopeia stated flatly. "The old coot probably thinks I'm stupid enough to bring the boy to court with me."

"So he picked Harry's birthday on purpose?" Griselda's eyebrows rose in surprise and she shook her head. "He has no idea how stubborn a snake can be, does he?"

"He's about to find out," Cassiopeia snarled. "If he keeps this up, I'll transfer the both of them to Durmstrang. See if I don't."

"We might be able to use that," Augusta murmured thoughtfully.

"You can leave the children with me," Griselda decided.

"Don't be silly Griselda," Augusta countered. "Neville's birthday is on the 30th. We'll do a joint birthday party for both children, and we'll invite several of their schoolmates."

/\/\/\/\/\

 _July 30, 1992_

 _Longbottom Estate_

The entire garden had been transformed by the House Elves. There were red and gold pennants and little topiary lions in different poses all throughout. The great trestle table from the formal dining hall had been moved to the yard and was covered in an eye-watering red and gold tablecloth. Harry had never seen anything quite so brilliant in his entire life.

"Come on, Harry," Neville called him. "Gran says that we need to be proper hosts."

When Harry and Neville arrived at the Floo room, Hermione was already standing next to Mrs. Longbottom. She was wearing a starched white pinafore over a black dress. Mrs. Longbottom eyed them both suspiciously. Neville grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him over by Hermione. Mrs. Longbottom nodded at them both and then turned to the Floo just as it flared green.

Out of the Longbottom's ornate fireplace stumbled a slightly sooty Seamus, followed by a disorientated Dean. Both boys grinned at Neville and Harry.

"Welcome to Longbottom Manor, Dean. Seamus. May I introduce my grandmother?" Neville said with a stiff little bow. "Grandmother, these are my House mates, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas."

"Thank you for your kind welcome," Seamus recited. He sketched a short bow in Mrs. Longbottom's direction. "Greetings to the lady of the house."

Dean repeated Seamus' words stiltedly and made his own awkward bow. Mrs. Longbottom nodded to each boy.

"Welcome to our home," Mrs. Longbottom said. "If you'll follow Hermione, she'll show you out to the garden. The House Elves can get you tea or gillywater."

"Thank you, ma'am," Seamus and Dean chorused. They hurried after Hermione who had turned and was already headed out toward the lawn.

The Floo flared again and soon Harry was caught up in the ritual of welcoming his and Neville's guests. The Patil twins, Lavender Brown, a slender little blonde witch named Luna, Ernie MacMillan, Draco Malfoy, and a host of other people came through the Floo. Each person made their curtsy or their bow to Mrs. Longbottom and then fled after Hermione toward the lawn.

Finally, the Weasleys arrived. Fred and George popped through, followed by their younger sister.

"Ron's right behind us," George said with a grin.

The Floo flared green, but then it seemed to _ripple_ oddly and a loud klaxon pealed. Mrs. Longbottom stiffened in shock and suddenly her wand was in her hand.

"Get behind me, all of you," she commanded.

"What is it, Gran?" Neville asked worriedly.

"It's the wards," Mrs. Longbottom said firmly. "Someone's attempted to gain entry and they've been trapped by the wards."

"But… it was just Ron," Fred protested.

"Did he have anything with him?" Mrs. Longbottom asked as she ran diagnostics for the wards. "Did he pick up anything at any of the shops on Diagon Alley?"

"No," George answered this time with a shake of his head. "He helped Mum make Harry's and Neville's presents."

"Somehow he picked up an extra guest," Mrs. Longbottom replied grimly. "There are two magical signatures in the ward field."

"That can't be right," Fred muttered.

"It could be Scabbers," their little sister suggested.

"Don't be silly, Gin," George said with a smile for his sister. He bumped her shoulder gently. "Percy's old rat wouldn't have a magical signature."

"I suppose not," Ginny agreed reluctantly.

"It appears to have been an animagus," Mrs. Longbottom said with a dark frown. "How long has Scabbers been a part of your family? Is he new?"

"No," the three Weasley children chorused.

In the end, Mrs. Longbottom contacted the Weasleys, the Aurors, and made Gringotts send out a ward expert. A huge group of people were milling about in the Floo Hall and arguing over the ward field's readings.

"It's my son in there," Molly Weasley exclaimed with an indignant expression, when one of the Aurors suggested that Ron might be involved with smuggling someone in to see the Chosen One. "He's only 12!"

"He might have been Imperiused," suggested the Auror.

Mrs. Longbottom shot him a look of disgust. "How in Merlin's name would anyone have gotten close enough to the boy to Imperius him?" She turned to glare at an older Auror who looked equally disgusted. "Is this the best your Academy is churning out these days, Scrimgeour?"

The older Auror sighed. "No, Augusta, it isn't."

Mrs. Longbottom tutted and Molly Weasley made a scoffing noise.

"Let's just… let's get the boy out," Auror Scrimgeour decided.

Gringotts' ward expert nodded and waved his wand in a complex series of motions. The swishing and flicking was happening so quickly that Harry's eyes crossed in the effort to follow the movement. Ron stumbled out of the Floo only to be snatched up by Mrs. Weasley and clutched to her chest. A round man with thinning hair and watery eyes stumbled out afterwards.

The adults gasped collectively.

"Peter Pettigrew!" One of the Auror's muttered in surprise.

"Incarcerous," growled Mrs. Longbottom.

"Augusta!" Auror Scrimgeour protested. "He's a war hero! You can't—"

"Where has he been for the last 11 years, Rufus?" Mrs. Longbottom demanded. "Why hide? Why not come claim his Order of Merlin himself?"

Auror Scrimgeour frowned at that and pointed at one of his Aurors. "Check his arm."

Everyone gasped again when his pale forearm was exposed and a strange, grey-looking tattoo was revealed.

"What's that, Mrs. Longbottom?" Harry whispered to her.

"The Dark Mark," one of the Aurors said faintly.

"Voldemort's mark," Mrs. Longbottom sneered.

"Scabbers!" Ron struggled in his mother's arms. "What happened to Scabbers?"

"That's Scabbers," Ginny told him, pointing at Peter Pettigrew.

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"Shush, Ron," Mrs. Weasley told him.

"But… but… he slept in my bed!" Ron shrieked.

The Aurors all looked at one another and then at Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Let's haul him in," Auror Scrimgeour sighed.

"Just a minute," Mrs. Longbottom called out. "Sirius Black is on trial right now for Peter Pettigrew's murder. You might want to alert the Wizengamot that Peter Pettigrew is very much alive."

Rufus Scrimgeour gave a sharp nod to Mrs. Longbottom and then started barking orders to the Aurors. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Longbottom was barking her own orders.

"Come on," Neville whispered and grabbed Harry's hand.

"What? Where are we going?" Harry asked as Neville dragged him in the other direction.

"To go tell Hermione," Neville hissed. "She's going to go spare when she hears!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Impatiently, Hermione smoothed out her robes and refolded her hands. Harry put his hand over hers and smiled at her.

"Aunt Cassiopeia said she would bring him home as soon as she could," Harry reminded her.

"What's taking so long?" Hermione worried aloud.

"Shouldn't I be the one who is worried?" Harry asked. "He's my godfather. What if he hates me? What if he wants to know why we didn't get him out sooner?"

"According to the letters Mother read, cousin Sirius adored you," Hermione said. "And we all know why no one could get him out sooner. That _Dumbledore_ ," Hermione spat his name out like a curse.

"Hermione… he's the Headmaster," Harry said nervously. "We… we shouldn't talk about him like that."

"He let your godfather _rot_ in a beastly prison for _eleven years_ ," Hermione declared with an indignant expression. "He allowed those… those _people_ to raise you. He might as well have let Voldemort have you for all the _good_ he's done you."

"I think I like her," a raspy voice said.

Hermione shrieked and jumped in the air. They both turned toward the doorway to see a painfully thin wizard leaning heavily on Cassiopeia. Hermione gasped and then curtseyed deeply. She poked Harry in the ankle and he bowed awkwardly.

"Sirius, may I present the Scion of the House of Black, Hermione Cybele," Cassiopeia presented her daughter. Then she gestured to Harry. "And, of course, your godson and my great-nephew, Harry Potter."

" _Harry_." Sirius breathed his name as though he were saying a prayer. He pulled away from Cassiopeia and took a faltering step forward.

"Hello, erm, sir." Harry shuffled his feet and looked to Cassiopeia for help.

"Don't call me sir," Sirius said firmly. "Just… just Sirius is fine."

"What is it with this younger generation," Cassiopeia groused as she made her way to Hermione. "Just Tonks and Just Sirius. I never heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life."

"Mother," Hermione walked forward and took her mother's hand, moving to lead her from the room. "Why don't we have Ajax bring some tea?"

"We can call for Ajax," Cassiopeia told her daughter with a frown.

"Mother," Hermione hiss-whispered and tugged on her mother's hand.

Cassiopeia allowed her daughter to tug her out of the room.

"Well?" Cassiopeia asked.

"I thought they could use a few minutes alone," Hermione whispered.

"I'm not sure if that's a wise idea, Hermione," Cassiopeia murmured with a frown. "Sirius is very ill."

"We won't go far," Hermione promised. "It's just…"

Both witches peeked back into the parlour, where Sirius was hugging Harry tightly as silent tears ran down his cheeks.

"Perhaps a few minutes," Cassiopeia agreed.


End file.
